


a life in your shape

by scoutshonour



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Mild Angst, Minor Robin Buckley/Kali Prasad, Multi, Mutual Pining, Weddings, i said i WILL be self-indulgent and write the sappiest thing ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: “I think Steve’s going to propose,” Nancy announces.Jonathan chokes, spilling water on his lap. He tries to look as unsuspicious as possible. He doesn’t know what the look for ‘no, I absolutely didn’t help Steve look for an engagement ring for you’ is but he knows he isn’t landing it.(or: Nancy and Steve are getting married. Jonathan’s happy. Really. Mostly. It’s complicated.)
Relationships: Jonathan Byers & Kali Prasad, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 27
Kudos: 132





	a life in your shape

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i am BACK with another stoncy rom-com and my goodness, did this one turn out much longer than intended.
> 
> first and foremost, this was inspired by [this lovely fic](https://biferris.tumblr.com/post/626667392250101760/all-the-things-i-never-told-you-a-ferris) for the ferris bueller's day off ot3. please give it a read and come chat with me about zoe's gorgeous writing and how brilliantly she writes yearning and complete and unconditional adoration.
> 
> secondly, this is, like, vaguely canon? set when our ot3 is in their mid to late twenties where their lives have mostly settled. no supernatural stuff but still references it. i hope this set-up with them in hawkins and as young adults feels plausible and real.
> 
> thirdly, [there's a playlist!!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5gTRwEzfFTbzzgKMs2pv16?si=ZRMws4XSRVmAwrTJnT3QWg.) feel free to listen along as you read. it should span the length of time it may take you to read this and i tried to time it to fit the emotional beats of this story.
> 
> that's all! i sincerely hope you enjoy. see you back at the end notes. :-)

__

_i love everybody  
_ _because i love you  
_ _i don't need the city, and i don't need proof_  
_all i need, darling is a life in your shape,  
_ _i picture it, soft, and i ache_

_— “strawberry blond”, mitski_

.

.

.

“What’s wrong?”

“ _Nothing!_ ” And because nothing’s wrong, Steve jumps at the question, drops of his newly-opened Coke spilling onto his soft red sweater. He laughs, the sound strained, and shakes his head vehemently. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m not nervous.”

Jonathan stares. He grabs a napkin from Steve’s coffee table and dabs it along Steve’s fresh stain all without breaking eye contact. “Should I be offended that you think I’d buy such a blatant lie?”

Steve’s shoulders sag with a sigh. “Offended? No. Charmed, maybe?” He runs a hand through his hair, sinking back into his sofa. 

“Charmed. Sure, if that makes you feel better.” Jonathan tries to take the used napkin back but Steve grabs it out of Jonathan’s grasp, thumb tapping against Jonathan’s. A quiet thank you.

“You saying it like _that_ doesn’t make me feel better.” Steve sighs. He crumples the napkin into a ball only to open it back up and slowly tear it to pieces. “Nothing’s wrong. I know you don’t believe me but it’s true. It’s just — I had a very dumb idea the other day and now it won’t get out of my head but it could be colossally stupid and I know colossally stupid ideas are kinda my brand but this one could have, like. Actual consequences.”

As a teenager, Jonathan had never really let himself think beyond the next few weeks, rarely even the year. At fifteen, there had been no point in thinking long-term when this month’s electricity bill loomed. Then at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen — no point in thinking about next _week_ when the world kept ending and ending and ending. 

Still. This image of him at twenty-six, sitting next to Steve Harrington in the small and cozy home in Hawkins that he shares with Nancy Wheeler that Jonathan goes to often enough that it feels like home, Jonathan’s stomach in knots because something is up with Steve and Jonathan needs so badly to help — this image would have never, ever crossed sixteen-year-old Jonathan’s mind. Sure, that could be said for Will’s disappearance and the mess that followed but still. Jonathan’s not dramatic enough to say that his close friendship with Steve is more unbelievable than the Upside Down but the thought still crosses his mind.

Jonathan rests his hand over Steve’s knee. “Look at me.”

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“I’d never.”

This gets Steve’s head to snap up and his eyes to narrow at Jonathan. “Oh, that is _such_ horse-shit, dude.” Jonathan would be offended if it weren’t for the barest of smiles that cracks over Steve’s mouth.

“I wouldn’t! Not if you’re being serious about something.”

Steve’s gaze softens, warm and terribly sincere. Jonathan melts underneath it, wishing that he could crawl away from Steve’s earnest eyes but also that he could stay here forever. What a life that would be, being looked at like this by Steve Harrington. 

Jonathan clears his throat. He straightens and smooths his hands over his knees. “Whatever this is, have you told Nance about it? ‘Cause she’d —”

Jonathan knows before Steve’s even shaken his head.

He knows and it hits him right in the chest. His heart squeezes, everything tight and hot and overwhelming and he forgets how to breathe for a few moments.

He knows and he couldn’t be happier for them.

“Oh, Steve,” Jonathan says, a crack tearing over his voice. “You know she’d say yes. You know that this — this is the best thing for both of you, you’d be so happy, I —”

Steve laughs with his entire body, shoulders slumping, a twinkle in his eyes. “So you think it’s a good call?”

Jonathan’s not sure who rises to their feet first but within seconds they’re both up, vibrating with excitement, sock-covered feet itching to jump from the brown carpet of Steve and Nancy’s living room. His hands grip Steve’s, a breathless laugh tumbling out of him. “Of course! You two make each other so happy and you’d just be happier and — what?”

Steve blinks. He tries to smile. Jonathan’s kind of offended that Steve thinks Jonathan can’t read Steve well enough by now to tell his fake smiles apart from the real ones. “Nothing, I just — you’re okay with this, right?”

“What?”

“Like. This doesn’t ... bother you.”

Jonathan’s hands start to shake so he drags them off of Steve, drops them back to his sides. The inches between them stand out to him now. He’s only a step away from Steve, close enough that he can hear Steve’s breathing. “Why would it?”

Steve scratches the back of his neck. His eyes dart around the room, past the throw-pillow Karen crocheted for them as a moving in present last year, the empty pizza box on the coffee table, the photograph of Steve and Nancy that Jonathan took sometime after they all graduated college. He’d given it to them for their eighth anniversary. 

(The idea of giving them a gift didn’t seem weird at all until Kali saw him wrapping the framed photo and asked, “You’re giving Nance and Stevie a gift? For _their_ anniversary?” She’d quickly assured him that it wasn’t strange, she was just surprised, and to give it anyway. 

“It’s a thoughtful gift,” she had said, patting his back. “They’d love it.” 

She was right. Jonathan doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the soft quiet Nancy fell into or the soft smile from Steve, all because of that photo.)

“Steve,” Jonathan says. He doesn’t like Steve’s sudden silence, the antsy way he keeps bouncing on his feet. It’s like Jonathan’s making him nervous or, even worse, _scared_ to tell him something. “C’mon, you can tell me, in _graphic_ detail, about the weird shape of the shit you take immediately after drinking your morning cup of coffee and how your sweaty armpits smell the same as the socks you wear for multiple days but you can’t tell me this?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. He meets Jonathan’s eyes, chest heaving with a long breath. “Pft, that’s not true. My socks only smell like my sweat after weeks of wearing them.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Jonathan says dryly but his smile undercuts his tone.

“C’mon, man. We really gotta work on your listening skills.”

“I’ll do better, I promise. Please forgive me.”

“I don’t know, Johnny, you really hurt my feelings.”

“I’ll give you exactly two pennies and — _hey_! You’re trynna distract me with banter. Oh my god, you little shit.”

“You know what wasn’t a little shit? The one I took this —”

Jonathan’s flat, unimpressed stare shuts Steve up. “You can tell me all about today’s morning dump after you explain why ... why you feel like you’d have to, you know.” _Ask me for my permission to propose._

“Oh, I don’t know it was just. Instinct. Nothing more, okay?” 

Jonathan feels offended again. Of course, he can tell that Steve’s lying. He wants to press into why Steve’s suddenly nervous again and why Steve seems conflicted now and why Steve would ever think marrying Nancy would bother Jonathan. But this can’t be anything more than Jonathan projecting and stupidly hoping. Besides, he trusts Steve. Trusts that Steve’ll tell him whatever this really is when he’s ready.

Jonathan’s throat bobs as he nods. “Yeah, okay. So you’re gonna do it then?”

Steve blinks and just like that, his entire face lights up. His fingers dig into his hair, an incredulous laugh spilling out of him. He squats because of excitement? And of course, Jonathan joins him, mirroring Steve’s grin. 

“Holy shit,” Steve exclaims. “I’m gonna propose to Nance!”

“You’re gonna marry her!”

“I’m gonna marry her! I’m gonna be Steve Wheeler — oh, no, that doesn’t sound good.”

“Steve Harrington-Wheeler?”

“Oh, yes! That sounds so much better!”

And then Steve’s crushing Jonathan into a hug so intense that Jonathan kind of falls back onto the couch. His face is pushed into Steve’s hair and all of Steve is over him and he doesn’t mind in the least bit, not when he’s hugging Steve as ferociously as possible. 

They’re laughing, sprawled over the couch. Steve’s elbow inadvertently digs into Jonathan’s arm, and Jonathan’s leg is slung over Steve’s and they’re so close but it’s okay because Steve and Nancy are going to be so happy and what that means for Jonathan hasn’t sunk in yet and right now, he can be happy for them back.

They don’t hear the lock to the front door turn. They don’t hear Nancy’s footsteps. They don’t hear her muffled laughter as she watches them from a few feet away, fist over her mouth, eyes so crinkled with her smile that for a blessed moment, her bags of exhaustion are concealed. 

But they do hear her say, “Hello, honeys, I’m home.” 

Jonathan rolls off of Steve so quickly that he falls face-first onto the floor. “Hello, Nance,” he mumbles directly into the carpet. He lays there because, well, what’s a more appropriate reaction to being caught that close to Steve by Nancy? “How are you?”

“Great except I just found my boyfriend with another man on _my_ sofa.” Jonathan winces, hopes this isn’t a prelude to an awful joke that’ll break his heart more than it’s already breaking — 

Nancy sighs. “And the guy’s prettier than me too. What’s a girl to do?”

Jonathan lolls his head over, ear pressed to the floor, moving just enough so he can make out Nancy. She’s standing behind the sofa, her hand absentmindedly combing through Steve’s hair. Steve’s sitting up, Karen’s _no place sweeter than home_ throw-pillow clutched in his hand. They’re both smiling lazily down at Jonathan and if possible, Jonathan reddens even more. 

“He is absolutely not prettier than you,” Jonathan huffs. “Bet you could kick his ass.”

“I could. But I would never.”

“Aw, I got two people vying for my undying love.” Steve takes the hand Nancy has in his hair and presses a kiss against her knuckles while he lightly foots Jonathan’s thigh. Jonathan sighs contently, letting the warm fuzz of it all envelop him. “Luckiest guy in Hawkins.”

 _Disagree,_ Jonathan thinks as he watches Steve crane his head to meet Nancy for a kiss. It’s weird that he’s looking but as soon as he looks away, they pull apart.

“Work went okay?” Jonathan asks, propping his hands behind his head.

Nancy shrugs, undoing her high-ponytail with one hand, smearing her mascara with the other. “This current piece is kicking my ass.”

“So kick its ass back but, like, harder,” Steve suggests sagely.

“Oh, I will. But it’s gonna beat me up first. It’s a good story but it’s hard getting people to talk for this piece on Hawkins’ public schools and their bullshit policies. Shocking, I know, that racist and classist people don’t like to admit that they’re racist and classist.”

“It’d be impossible to make that work if, y’know, you weren’t the only person that could make the impossible possible,” Jonathan says. “You’ve got this. You know that, right?”

Nancy smiles, pushing her hair away from her face. “Yeah, I do.” She hops over the back of the sofa and lands neatly next to Steve. Her head slants against Steve’s arm, foot poking Jonathan’s shoulder. “Come sit with us up here.”

“Oh, but your floor is so comfortable. I love laying next to ... a dusty Cheeto?”

“Why are you so gross?” Nancy sighs into Steve’s neck.

“I’m not gross! It’s not like I ate it.” 

“But you would if we weren’t here, wouldn’t you,” Jonathan says, and Nancy cracks up.

“You’re both such dicks,” Steve says, which isn’t a no.

They spend some time talking about nothing. Jonathan’s to-do-list glares at him for the duration of their conversation, tasks like doing his laundry, making dinner before Kali gets home, taking Bowie for a walk. But he forgets about all of these things because here, laying by Steve and Nancy’s feet, feels like there really is nothing in the universe but the three of them.

He knows, even though it’s not the same way, that the pair feel similarly. Nancy doesn’t change out of her work clothes — a floral blouse, a pencil skirt, and stockings — and Steve doesn’t get up to make his usual five o’clock coffee. 

Maybe twenty minutes later, Nancy lifts her head from Steve’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go make some tea. Who wants?”

Jonathan blindly sticks his arm out and hits her ankle. “No, no, I’ll do it. You’re tired.”

“I’m not,” Nancy says through a yawn. Jonathan knows how she gets when she’s knee-deep into an article. No sleep, coffee and stubbornness her only fuel. 

“Look at you. Look at your adorable eye-bags and your yawns. You’re dead-tired, honey,” Steve says.

Nancy’s eyebrows furrow in what would be a glare if she isn’t still yawning. “ _You’re_ dead-tired, honey.”

“I’m always dead-tired. Let’s take a nap. Can we take a nap?”

Dragging himself up to his feet, Jonathan grunts. “Lemme make some tea first.”

“You don’t live here,” Steve says.

“I’m sorry about that?”

“We’re the worst hosts ever. Let us make you tea, you fuck.”

“Shut up.”

Steve’s mouth drops. “Nance, he told me to _shut up_.”

Nancy props her feet up on her coffee table, her eyelids fluttering shut. “So tell him to shut up back.”

“Jonathan, shut —”

Jonathan side-steps past the sofa over to the kitchen, just a few feet away. “I’m making you tea. You can fight me on that.”

Nancy’s sleepy chuckle comes out muffled by Steve’s shoulder. “And we all know who’d win.”

It’s all so hazy but some pieces of the fight and that blurry, terrible week of his life remain clear. His blood in his mouth, Steve’s blood on his knuckles, Nancy’s screams in the background in the middle of that alley, how everything was spinning out of his control but the one thing he could control was rearranging Steve’s face. 

He remembers the feel of his fist smashing into Steve’s cheek vividly. It almost makes him feel bad but out of all of their laughter at Nancy’s comment, Steve’s is the loudest.

“It’s so strange, isn’t it?” 

Jonathan’s got his back turned to both Nancy and Steve. He shuffles in their small kitchen, finding what he needs seamlessly. The kettle, three mugs, their container of tea bags. “What is, Steve?”

“I mean. I never would’ve thought the Jonathan Byers that decked me in the face would ever stubbornly insist on making me tea.”

“Very strange,” Nancy agrees. “But very fitting, don’t you think?”

Jonathan glances over his shoulder, tentative. But Nancy and Steve are already looking at him, waiting for him to respond.

“Yeah,” he gets out, voice thick. “I think some things have a way of working out. And the best ones are what you can’t see coming from the start.” It makes him think about them, of course, but also about his family. How their small Byers bubble did what was once unthinkable and expanded, Hopper and El and Kali just as much his family now as Will and Joyce. He isn’t sure when all of this happened, when he suddenly had people that weren’t just his mother and brother but he could have never seen any of that coming.

The slow matching smiles that spread across Nancy and Steve’s faces make Jonathan’s chest tighten with feeling. He thinks about Steve’s plan to propose, how Nancy would say yes. Maybe a June wedding for them. Kali would be Nancy’s maid of honour. Dustin would be Steve’s best-man. Jonathan’s not sure which side Robin would be on but she’d be up there. Jonathan would take the pictures. It’d be perfect.

It’s early September right now so there are maybe another ten months until the wedding day. Jonathan shouldn’t think so far ahead. He’s known, deep-down, this would happen eventually. It doesn’t change anything. They’re still his best friends, he’s still theirs. He’s still in love with them, they’re still not in love with him. 

He doesn’t know why the floor beneath him suddenly doesn’t feel as solid anymore. 

“Jonathan? You okay?”

Jonathan straightens, his heart a pounding wreck. “Hm?”

Nancy rubs her eyes and repeats, “Dinner. You staying over tonight?”

“Nah. Got a lotta work to get done and that’s all after I rush home and make dinner for me and Kali, so.”

Nancy and Steve share a long look.

“Fuck,” Nancy says. “Did you make dinner?”

“No, Jonathan and I got coffee right after work so — fuck. We could just go to your parents’ house. I know, I know, dinner with your parents without any alcohol in us is not ideal _but_ you know whatever your mom’s making will be amazing and we’ll be in and out. Real quick.”

“But I already took my bra off.”

“Okay, hold on, why is it gross when _I_ leave my socks on the floor but not when you leave your bra on the sofa —”

“My bra doesn’t smell like your sweaty armpits!”

Jonathan stifles a chuckle. He turns the kettle on, lines the three mugs on the counter. He turns around to face them, back against the kitchen counter, arms loose by his sides. Their whole bra versus socks thing isn’t really an argument, not when Nancy’s shoving her bra in Steve’s face while he tries to shove his armpit in hers all while they’re both laughing their heads off. “You’re both ridiculous,” he says, so softly he’s not sure if they hear him.

Until one of them — he can’t tell who through the entanglement of their arms, the blur of their sudden movements — flings Nancy’s bra at Jonathan’s feet.

“You are your company,” Nancy says, breathless and flushed and still laughing. She and Steve have paused, mid-fight, their arms still weaved in the air, waiting for Jonathan’s move.

He lets them wait a little longer and takes in the sight of two of his favourite people. “I guess I am,” he says finally. Nancy doesn’t even realize how big of a compliment that really is.

.

.

.

Listen.

Jonathan knows, okay?

You think he _wants_ to be twenty-six and still living in Hawkins and still painfully in love with both of his best friends?

It’s pathetic but it’s his life and despite himself, he still takes pride in what he’s built for himself in the rubble. He’s still standing. Everyone he loves is safe and happy and alive. He went to college. Got a degree in Photography Studies from a quiet college only an hour and nineteen minutes away from Hawkins. Has a good job at Hawkin’s Post, his work mostly separate Nancy but enough that they commute together most days, share lunches, and collectively bitch about their bosses. Lives with his best friend in his childhood home. Takes Bowie for a walk every day. Sees his mother and step-father and calls his siblings nearly every other day. Has dinner with his friends every Friday at Nancy and Steve’s. 

It’s a good life. He can want more but still be happy with what he has now.

And he is happy. Really. Mostly. It’s complicated.

.

.

.

The first thing he’s greeted with upon setting inside his home is Bowie barking by his feet.

“Hey, bud.” Jonathan drops his work bag to the floor, next to his and Kali’s shoes, and bends to scratch Bowie under the ear. “Where’s Kali?”

“Physically, I’m here. But mentally, I’m at the bottom of a ditch somewhere in Antarctica.”

Jonathan wanders over to the sound of Kali’s voice and finds her in the living room, face-first into their three-seater couch with a blanket draped over her. Bowie follows him and upon seeing Kali, jumps onto the couch. He noses along her neck.

“Let me be miserable, Bow,” she complains but rolls over and smiles faintly at Bowie. 

Jonathan sits at the other end of the couch in front of Kali’s feet. “Bad day?”

Kali sighs. She looks exhausted. Unkempt hair, smudged eyeliner, gunk in her eye that she promptly wipes off. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No. What about you? Please tell me you had a good day.”

“Really good. But kinda bad.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Kali sits up and tugs the blanket so it covers both of their laps. Bowie crawls onto them, face tucked into Kali’s thigh, tail wagging against Jonathan’s stomach. 

“Are you happy?” Jonathan asks. They’re not looking at each other but at the wall facing them instead. He looks over the dozens of photos strung up, lingering on the one of Kali squished between Joyce and El for Joyce’s forty-eighth birthday last year. 

Kali doesn’t skip a beat. “Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t have to think about the answer. It’s this ... instinctive thing. The way my life’s been, everything so ...” She trails off and in her silence, he understands exactly what she means. “And it’s not like things are perfect right now but it’s nothing like I thought it would be. It’s stable. It’s wonderfully simple. It’s this culmination of choices that _I_ got to make and I’m pretty happy with where it’s led me.” 

“I’m happy with where it’s led you too.” He slots his chin above her head, pulling the blanket down over her knees. 

“Something tells me I can’t say the same for you though, can I? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll be very annoyed about it and pester you repeatedly.”

He puffs out a laugh. “I’m prepared.”

She pulls away only to tip his chin up with her forefinger. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

“Neither do you.”

Bowie barks as if in agreement.

Jonathan smiles and rubs Bowie’s back. “Still don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet.” Kali cups Bowie’s face, humming when he licks her palm. “You?”

“Not yet. But thank you.”

“Shut up,” she says which means _you don’t have to thank me_ but also, _thank you too._

He waits for a moment as Bowie rolls over in their laps before he says, “We need to make dinner.”

She groans, burying her face in her hands. “Can we just go to Mrs. Wheeler’s?” 

He laughs. She gives him a strange but amused look to which he just says, “Tell Robin to come too. Tonight’ll be a dinner party.”

.

.

.

“I think Steve’s going to propose,” Nancy announces.

Jonathan chokes, spilling water on his lap. He tries to look as unsuspicious as possible. He doesn’t know what the look for ‘no, I absolutely didn’t help Steve look for an engagement ring for you’ is but he knows he isn’t landing it.

Nancy slams the door behind her. This isn’t the official break room but it is theirs. A tiny shelf of a room next to the darkroom that served as the paper’s storage until Jonathan and Nancy landed their jobs here, fresh out of college at the same time. Jonathan had asked Frederick, the middle-aged editor whose office was across from Jonathan’s, why the room was in such disarray. Frederick said no one knew what else to do with it and it had been cluttered like that in all his time at the Post.

“So if someone were to clean it up and give it an actual use, that’d be okay?” Jonathan had asked.

“Sure, kid, don’t see why not.”

So he and Nancy stayed for twenty minutes every day after their shifts for two and a half weeks. They cleaned, disinfected the room, swept, searched through each and every box. They had found a wrapped sandwich with pounds of mold over it, a bag of what looked like cat hair — though neither dared to touch it — and not one but two dead mice. 

They wanted to give up. The room was disgusting, carried a strong and disgusting odour, and, you know, dead mice weren’t a particularly good sign. But constantly sharing a working space with their much older colleagues, all white men who made crass jokes and uncomfortably reminded both Jonathan and Nancy of their respective fathers for different reasons, just wasn’t an option. More pressingly, Nancy isn’t the type to give up and her stubborn willingness always did make Jonathan braver than he was.

And thus the room became theirs. They added a desk, a few plants, photographs, and kept a drawer of cutlery, mugs, and water bottles for their lunch breaks. Each had their own stack of work in opposite corners for when they needed an especially quiet place to work. They had their own offices so this room wasn’t necessarily that. It was just space that was entirely theirs. 

Jonathan’s always happy to see Nancy, especially in their shared break-room, but now, as her eyes widen and shine with her usual determination and she rattles off reasons why she’s _sure_ Steve will propose, might be the first time he dreads the sight of her.

“He’s acting even more fidgety than usual.” Nancy drops her container of lunch onto their shared desk but doesn’t sit. “He mentioned the other day, _oh, Nance, isn’t it crazy that we’ve been together for a decade now_ in a very chalant tone!”

“I don’t think chalant is a word, it’s not the opposite of nonchal —”

“He allegedly had extra shifts at the community centre all last week but none of the classes he told me he ran were on that late —”

Jonathan’s face heats up. He tries to hide it with another swig of his water bottle, his mind replaying the dozens of rings he and Steve looked at last week until Steve found the perfect one. “Why would he have lied about that? What could he be doing instead?”

“Planning an elaborate proposal? Buying a ring?”

“Wouldn’t he have asked for your ring size?” On the ride to the jeweller, in response to Jonathan’s question about whether Steve knew Nancy’s ring-size, Steve had proudly said that he’d swiped one of Nancy’s rings to give to the jeweller to avoid asking her.

Nancy waves her hand dismissively as she paces the five-feet length of the room. “No, he wouldn’t have to. He could have just taken one of my rings.”

Nancy and Steve really are perfect for each other.

“You wanna hear the final nail in the coffin?” Nancy wrinkles her nose. “Wait, no, I don’t like that. Nothing about the love of my life proposing is like death, that was a terrible choice of words, I’m extremely in love —”

“Tell me.”

She plops into her seat across him, drags it as close to the desk as possible. A conspiratorial glint catches her eyes. Jonathan gets a rush of fondness so intense he forgets what they’re talking about until Nancy says, “He went to see my parents’ during his lunch break today.”

“How do you know?”

“Hols just called. She complained that she wasn’t allowed in the kitchen because mom and dad were having a serious conversation with Steve and told me to tell Steve to use his own fucking kitchen.”

“She’s swearing now? Your mom must be horrified.”

“She really is, the dyed hair was already over the — hey! Stop distracting me!”

“I’m not! I just ... I don’t know, Nance. Maybe you’re reading too much into it.” A stab of guilt knocks into him but what’s he to say? Tell her _yes, Steve is proposing and the ring I helped pick out for you is gorgeous?_

“You’re lying to me.”

“Am not.” 

“Prove it.”

“How.”

Her elbow hits the desk with a _thud_ as she opens her scar-covered palm towards him. “Swear on the scar?”

“This is a bit dramatic, don’t you —”

“You know what, you’re right. But I’m also obviously right. Steve’s proposing but I don’t need your confirmation and I don’t _need_ to know now because I will soon enough.” She sits back, shoulders slumped, all the intensity on her face replaced with a dazed look. Her middle finger trails over her scar so lightly that Jonathan’s not sure she even knows she’s doing it. “I’m gonna marry him.”

Jonathan sees it vividly then. Nancy, glowing in her white dress. Steve, beautiful in his tux. Their eyes meeting across the aisle, the fit of giggles they’d break into. 

“You’re gonna marry him.” Bizarrely, his eyes start to water and he promises, it’s not at all bitter, just entirely sweet. All he wants is a lifetime of peace and joy for them and here they have it. 

Nancy laughs, her eyes as wet as his. “Oh my god.” She stares at her ring-finger, touches the spot where a ring would fit. “I never thought it’d be like this, you know, I thought —”

“What?”

She looks up from her finger to him. Something in her gaze quiets, distorts, turns into something gentler but sadder too. Her hand lays flat on the table, palm up. She doesn’t move to take his but he recognizes the gesture and slips his fingers into hers. 

“Nance ...” The same eerie feeling as when Steve asked if Jonathan was okay with this strikes him again now. The single lightbulb in the room flickers. From down the hall, an obnoxiously loud round of laughter sounds. His scar tingles. He wonders vaguely if hers does the same too.

She sniffs. Her hand, cold and soft in his, gives him a squeeze. She smiles, tight around the edges, and it’s such an odd image — her with her violet, buttoned-up blouse, black skirt, tied up hair, and a lightless smile — that it’s almost odd to reconcile her with the angry, hurting, and warrior sixteen-year-old he got to know her as. But it’s still her, undeniably so with the determined way she insists, “It’s nothing, okay?

He doesn’t believe her. But her hand’s still in his, her blue eyes earnest, her smile wobbling. So he swallows past the lump in his throat and says, “Yeah, okay.”

.

.

.

Two weeks later, Jonathan wakes up on a Saturday morning to the distant noises of intermingled laughter. He ignores it, thinks it’s Kali and Robin. 

But then he hears, 

“It’s not that gross, seriously, ketchup in your cereal is for people with _refined_ taste and you and your lovely accent are as refined as they get, Kal.”

And of course, every fibre in his being needs to dispute that and insult Steve _right now._ That’s the only reason he gets out of bed. 

He takes a few minutes. Brushes his teeth, washes his face, combs his hair into place. Even with the time it takes him to get ‘ready’, by the time he enters the kitchen, Kali is still berating Steve for his eating choices.

“You’re disgusting.” She sits cross-legged by their dining table, her bowl of cereal clutched to her chest. On the table are a box of cereal, two glasses of orange juice, and a half-empty bottle of ketchup. 

Steve sits across from her. His face is flushed and he’s wearing the usual navy vest and sweatpants for whenever he goes running. His morning runs baffle everyone, Nancy included.

“He’ll get up five minutes before leaving for work on weekdays,” she’ll always say, “but when it comes to running he’s awake before the sun. I don’t understand him.” But then she’ll look at him from across the room, her eyes gleaming, and that trademark determination of hers returns except softer as if to declare that while she doesn’t understand him, she wants to spend the rest of her life trying to.

Steve and Nancy’s home is about a twenty-minute walk from the Byers home. Steve usually stops by their place, says hi, grabs breakfast. Usually, they’ll all take Bowie for a walk. Jonathan and Kali are too groggy to function so Steve happily pays attention and keeps up with Bowie.

Waking up to Steve in his kitchen isn’t unusual but the ketchup Steve adds to his already ketchup-soaked cereal certainly is.

“Jonathan!” Steve brightens at the sight of Jonathan. He eagerly pats the seat in between himself and Kali. “Tell Kal I’m not disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.” Jonathan touches Kali’s shoulder in greeting and once he’s seated, she nudges his foot with hers to do the same. Something soft presses against his feet. He looks down, finds Bowie in between his legs, golden fur even more golden under the morning sunlight from the opened blinds. Jonathan smiles and pets him, combing his fingers through Bowie’s fur appreciatively. “Morning, bud. Did ya know Steve’s disgusting?”

“I don’t know why I eat breakfast with you two,” Steve says through a mouthful of cereal.

Kali raises an eyebrow. With her hair tied up, dark lines underneath her eyes, her face blank, she looks terrifyingly unamused. “I don’t know why I let you in.” But then she smiles, her nose scrunching up adorably, and elbows the ketchup bottle towards him. 

Steve grins, pleased. “I know you love me. Both of you do.”

Jonathan and Kali share a wry look. 

“Oh my god, I hate when you guys do that. Your _twin_ looks. Say what you’re thinking.”

“We’re thinking ‘oh my god, we really do love him’,” Jonathan says.

Kali nods.

“Oh.” Steve leans back, arms crossed over his chest, a hint of smugness overpowered by the flush in his face deepening. Bowie side-steps past everyone’s legs and settles by Steve’s feet. “Thank you?”

“You could say you love us back.” Kali’s chair screeches against the floor as she stands. She takes her empty bowl and walks the few steps to the sink. While she turns the tap on and picks up the sponge, Jonathan marvels at how the light hits her, illuminates her skin. She’s golden too. His camera is back in his room so he doesn’t take a picture but he stows that idea — Kali in the morning light — for later. 

Steve jolts Jonathan out of his thoughts by stretching his leg and footing Jonathan’s knee. “Want me to say it too?”

Jonathan stretches his arms above his head and hopes his attempt at casualty rings sincere. “You don’t have to. I know it’s true.” Even if it’s not the way _he_ himself feels, he knows Steve loves him, that the deep fondness he has for Steve is shared in some way. The thing about Steve — and Nancy, in her own way — is that he doesn’t love quietly. He loves loudly, openly, screaming it from the rooftops. Whether he loves you or not isn’t a question you have to ask because you’ll already have your answer.

Steve’s face quiets. He sets his bowl of cereal down, licks the drop of milk beneath his lip away. 

“What?”

“Nothing, I just — that’s very sweet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

From the sink, Kali says, “I would still like to hear it, though.”

Steve chuckles. He jumps out of his feet, takes two steps, and hugs Kali from behind. She squeals, tenses at first, but only from shock — after a beat, once Steve’s nestled his head in the crook of her shoulder, she relaxes. She dries her hands on the washcloth next to their tray of plates before she laces their fingers. 

Steve presses a kiss to the back of Kali’s head. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Jonathan smiles to himself. It’s stupidly early, a quarter to eight, and he’s not nor will he ever be a morning person. But this morning, in his kitchen, sitting by two of the best people and the best dog in the world licking his calves, this morning is an exception.

Steve steps back. He pulls another cup from the top shelf and starts for the fridge. “You wanna know something, Kal?”

Jonathan stiffens in his seat.

Kali leans against the kitchen counter, eyebrows furrowed. “Of course.”

Steve takes out a carton of orange juice, takes an agonizingly long three seconds to pour the cup to its brim. He sets the cup on the counter and following the _clink_ it makes against the table, Kali opens her mouth, perhaps to tell Steve to hurry up and —

which is when Steve pulls out a small red box from his sweatpants. “Guess what I’m — oh. You already know.”

Jonathan’s face screws up. He rubs his eyes, confused on whether he and Steve are seeing the same image of Kali — the pure joy lighting up her face, one hand on either cheek, knees slightly bent like she wants to jump up and down.

“What? I didn’t already know, I couldn’t have —”

Steve spins and points a finger at Jonathan. “ _You_!”

“I didn’t tell her,” Jonathan starts to insist.

“And to think I was gonna ask you to be my best man —”

“You were?”

“Obviously! But not anymore! The betrayal, the nerve you have of _lying_ to my face —”

“I’m not _lying_ —”

“He’s not,” Kali cuts in. She scratches the side of her head, eyes downcast to her bare feet. “Harrington, you can’t tell when someone’s lying when we play Cheat but you can about this?”

“You guys announce the number of cards you’re putting down so strangely,” Steve mutters, forlorn. “And with your powers considered, of course, you can make three twos appear —”

“I don’t cheat!” Kali huffs.

“Well, technically, you do, all of us do, that’s how the game —” Jonathan stops himself at the flat look he earns from Kali. He raises his hands defensively and nods. “I’ll stop. But you’re ... you’re admitting you knew?”

“I didn’t _know_ know _,_ ” Kali says. “But Nance had a suspicion and everything she told me, well, the evidence was overwhelming. How you met her parents.”

Steve’s mouth drops. “How did she know!”

“Holly called. Said you were being annoying in her kitchen.”

“Oh my god.”

“Nance told me the same thing,” Jonathan admits.

“What! How did you not _tell me_!”

“Because I didn’t want you to lose that spark of excitement about surprising her!” Jonathan crosses his arms, tipping his chin up at Steve. “What difference would it have made?”

“Well ...” Kali sighs. “She may or may not be gunning to propose first.”

“Are you _joking_!?” Steve throws his hands up and groans loudly, making Bowie bark in turn. “This woman is so — wait, she wants to propose? To _me_? Aw, that would be nice and I’d never thought about getting proposed to so that’d — wait, no, what am I saying, _I_ want to propose. And I want to do it first! Holy shit, I need to go now, run back home and propose before she gets the chance to —”

“Okay, wait,” Kali says. “You can relax a bit. She’s planning on doing it on the 25th.” A week and a half from today.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, confusing creasing his face. “Why that — oh. Aw. It’s the day she first said she loved me. She’s so lovely, ain’t she? I’m gonna beat her and propose first. The look on her face when she realizes she’s lost —”

“And, you know, the pure joy at getting to spend a lifetime with you,” Jonathan says.

“Yeah, that too — it’ll be so sweet. Thanks, Kal. And I’m sorry for snapping at you, Jonathan. Of course, you wouldn’t have told her.”

“It’s okay,” Jonathan assures him. “I get it.”

“You’re my best man again.”

“Really?”

“Can’t believe you’d doubt it. Of course, it’s you.”

“How cute,” Kali says sincerely. “Hate to interrupt but I’ve got a shift at the library in forty minutes so I’ve gotta bounce. If you two would like to take Bowie for a walk then, by all means, go ahead.” 

That’s how Jonathan and Steve find themselves leaving the house ten minutes later, Bowie’s leash in Jonathan’s hand, the street quiet save for the chirping of birds flying by and Bowie’s paws against the pavement.

“You really want me to be your best man?” Jonathan can’t help but ask, looking at Steve from the corner of his eye.

Steve knocks his shoulder into Jonathan’s. “Quit being dumb. Obviously. I want you to be mine. I know I’d be yours.”

Jonathan laughs, a short and bitter sound. He looks up at the sky, at its expansive pale blue, and lets the cool breeze run a chill down his spine. “’M never getting married.”

“Why are you so stupid?”

“Great question. I blame my dad’s genes.”

“What I mean is of course you’ll get married one day. The right person is out there for you, somewhere.”

Jonathan can’t help but pick up on Steve’s choice of words — person, not girl. Sometimes he wonders if Steve and Nancy and everyone, quite frankly, all know, can just see it on Jonathan when they look at him. But in that same vein, they should know how he feels for Steve and Nancy, so he supposes not. But it’s still a strange thing for Steve to say. “Maybe. Definitely not in Hawkins, though.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head a bit. It’ll happen. You’re gonna fall in love and you’re gonna be so happy.” Jonathan can’t bring himself to meet Steve’s eyes as they walk down the street but the tremor in Steve’s voice, the choked way his words come out — it makes Jonathan’s heart ache. 

It’s enough for Jonathan to muster up a bit of bravery and look Steve in the eye. He thinks of the way Nancy sticks her tongue out of her mouth when she’s concentrating on a piece when they’re both working in their shared break room. The purple smudges on Kali’s fingertips from highlighting passages of her favourite books. The grey _Queen_ tee Jonathan gifted Robin for her twentieth birthday that she still wears all the time. How, when they hug him, Joyce always sweeps her thumb up and down his shoulder-blade and Hop claps him on the shoulder twice. How Will can’t do a full squat without falling over and how El always teases him for it.

He thinks about right now, how much brighter Steve’s eyes look with the light reflecting in them as Steve looks at him. 

Jonathan swallows back everything he wants to tell Steve and at least manages to say something mostly honest: “I’m already happy.”

.

.

.

He’s not sure when Fridays at Nancy and Steve’s became a thing just that at some point, it did.

It’s usually all five of them, Jonathan, Kali, and Robin as guests. But this night, Kali’s out in Chicago, visiting her friends. She took Robin with her and made a pit-stop to pick up El, no doubt having said hi and chatted with the rest of the Party who live just an hour away from Hawkins. 

Everyone gets along pretty well with Kali’s friends but it’s no comparison to Robin and El who adore them and are adored back with the same fervency. They should be back late Sunday. Jonathan and Bowie both miss her but in the same vein, he’s happy for her. She always returns from her trips to Chicago with a new lightness, a skip to her step, a gleam in her smile. 

When she’d first moved to Hawkins to be closer to El, she worried that she would lose touch with her friends. Jonathan doubted that that would’ve happened and he’s glad to have been right.

That leaves just him attending Nancy and Steve’s that Friday. He brings a bag of chips and a deck of cards. They have their own deck but it’s missing the king of diamonds and the two of spades.

When he arrives, Nancy greets him at the door. He’d seen her just hours ago at work but the sight of her again, dressed in one of Steve’s grey sweatshirts and a pair of loose shorts, buoys him with relief like he hasn’t seen her in months.

“I’m gonna crush you,” she says brightly.

He steps inside, closes the door behind him. “Hello to you too.”

“We’ve got Scrabble, Uno, and Battleship. Take your pick at what to play first.”

“Battleship? What’s the third person gonna do?”

“Oh, Steve’s already decided he won’t play. He’ll make misleading statements and goad us and say things like, _ooh, risky move_ and _are you sure about that_?”

“So what he normally does.”

Nancy hums her assent and tugs on Jonathan’s elbow, pulling him further inside. Distantly, he can hear the water from the shower and Steve’s muffled singing. 

“My mom made brownies,” she says. “While we wait for Steve, let’s eat ’em while they’re still warm.”

They sit next to each other by the dining table, their knees knocking underneath the table. “I love your mom, you know that?” Jonathan tells Nancy right before he shoves an entire brownie into his mouth. He overestimates his mouth’s capability and makes a strangled noise because it won’t fit. Not until he takes a bite and shoves the rest in with his middle finger.

She fixes him with a look like she’s trying to appear disgusted but her fondness is too overwhelming for that to show. She nudges a box of tissues towards him. “She loves you too.”

They don’t say it out loud but in the knowing look they share. Karen’s well-meaning and likes Steve well-enough but she’s not very subtle about how she’d rather Nancy be with Jonathan.

“It’s just that Jonathan’s so well-mannered, sensitive, and thoughtful,” Jonathan once heard Karen whisper-shout to Nancy. This was in the summer before their third year of college. He had stood out the opened front door, keys in his hands, waiting for Nancy to come out so they could pick Steve and meet Robin and Kali for lunch.

“So is Steve!” Nancy hissed, irritation burning in her voice. “I don’t like Jonathan like that.”

Jonathan’s chest twisted. He stepped back with the intention of trekking back to his car to grant Nancy some privacy but Karen’s immediate response rooted him in place.

“Honey, you say that but I see the way you look at him.”

“I love Steve.”

“I know you do, but it’s not ... I think you can love two people at once, dear.”

“ _Mother._ ” 

“And you must know by now that Jonathan feels the same way, he looks at you the same way —”

Jonathan couldn’t bear another second. He almost tripped in his retreat back to the car and collapsed into the driver’s seat with a ragged breath. He turned his car on, blared whatever mixtape had already been in, for once unbothered by the gas he was wasting.

It wouldn’t be for another three minutes that Nancy came out, stomping her way into the passenger’s seat. She slammed the door shut, sank into the seat, and crossed her arms. Her eyes were misty. She blinked and a tear slipped out.

“Nance,” Jonathan said, his heart in his throat. “Are you okay?”

“My mother is impossible.”

He knew the answer but asked anyway: “You wanna talk about it?”

“No, but I just —” She scrubbed her eyes, taking in a sharp breath. “I feel like I need to scream.”

“Okay. We can do that.”

They took the longer route to Steve’s house. Nancy was apprehensive when Jonathan rolled his windows out and said, “Let’s do it, let’s just scream.” But then he went ahead and did it himself until this throat felt raw and she gave him a hint of a smile before she did the same.

By the time they reached Steve’s, their voices were hoarse. They asked him for cups of water and he went inside to get it for them.

As soon as Steve was out of earshot, Nancy touched Jonathan’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

He covered his hand with hers, stroked his thumb across her knuckle. “Of course.”

Since that day, Jonathan had never heard Karen talk about him and Nancy like that. He doesn’t know if Karen still brings it up but he doubts, and honestly hopes, not considering how long Nancy and Steve have been together. Steve’s made some offhand remarks, too bitter to be passed off as jokes, about how much Karen favours Jonathan over him. He only does it when it’s just Jonathan. 

The first time he’d done it, Jonathan had said, “Well, what matters most is that you’re Nancy’s favourite.” 

But that only made Steve annoyed, angry, even. “Nancy loves you too. It’s not like it’s me over you.”

So Jonathan had just stuck to reassuring Steve that Nancy’s feelings mattered more. It’s ... a thing. He’s just glad Karen doesn’t say anything to Steve’s face and when all three of them are together.

“How is your mom, by the way?” Jonathan asks despite having seen her the other week for dinner. Mike had been in town that day so with all the Wheelers at home plus Jonathan, Kali, Robin, and Steve, the table had been packed. Karen didn’t have enough food but she just made extra despite her guests’ insisting not to bother.

Nancy shrugs, tearing off a large chunk of her brownie. “Good. Holly’s giving her a headache and she thinks that _I’m_ the person to complain to instead of, you know, her husband. It’s annoying because Holly’s just growing into her skin and testing the limits you know, nothing worse than anything me or Mike did as kids.”

“Definitely not worse.” He traces his thumb along her scar and she laughs.

“Exactly. But it’s nice, too. I didn’t think we’d ever be close but now we talk on the phone and go shopping and it’s ... not where I thought we’d end up.”

“But it’s good.”

“It’s good. She, like, actually likes me.”

“‘Course she does. Having a daughter like you, she’s gotta always be —”

“I cannot take your sweetness today,” Nancy says. “And I mean that in the nicest way possible. I’m going to blush too much. Not emotionally prepared yet.”

“Not emotionally prepared for something ... nice?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re so strange.”

She combs her hair out of her face and smooths it back, readying it for a ponytail. Her smile feels like a gift. “Says you.”

He breaks another piece of brownie off, tosses it into his mouth. “Least I don’t put ketchup into my cereal like your ridiculous boyfriend.”

“It’s not that gross once you try it,” Nancy insists which leads to a thirty-minute debate and Steve’s utter delight when he walks into the kitchen, hair wet, skin bright, clad in a fuzzy red sweater and flannel pyjama pants, and finds Nancy ardently defending his disgusting eating habits. 

It’s like Jonathan can see Steve fall deeper in love with her. Though that could just be Jonathan feeling himself fall deeper too.

.

.

.

“Crepuscular _is_ a word,” Nancy insists haughtily.

Steve shakes his head, absentmindedly tapping his fingers along his ankles. His legs are stretched out into a ‘V’, what he fondly dubs his ‘concentration’ pose. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

Jonathan reorganizes his remaining letters with a snort. “Well, if _you_ haven’t heard it before ...”

“You want proof?” Nancy reaches over their Scrabble board towards the towering stack of books. Her elbow narrowly misses hitting Jonathan’s head as she pulls out a thick book from the middle without knocking any of the books down. The dictionary drops next to her feet with a thunk. “I’ll check.”

“You’re joking,” Jonathan and Steve say.

“Absolutely not. You know how many points I’ll get with this word? I’ll crush you both for sure.”

“Love you too, darling,” Steve says. It doesn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. He looks past Nancy at Jonathan and winks. “Ready to lose, Johnny Boy?”

“To Nance? Yes. But to you? Are you _high_?”

Steve crumples the empty chip bag and flicks it at Jonathan’s chest. “Dick.”

Jonathan throws it back. It strikes Steve’s shoulder. “Ass-wipe.”

They toss the chip bag back and forth, their accompanying insults delving into terms of endearment. It’s when Jonathan passes it back to Steve with a “Pumpkin” that Nancy shouts, sitting up on her knees.

“Aha!” She flips the dictionary, the paper facing them, and stabs her forefinger against the top left corner of the page. It leaves a tear in the paper with the force of her pointing but she doesn’t notice. Her smile is wild and unabashed. “Crepuscular! Of, resembling, or relating to twilight. _There_!” 

She spins on her knees to face Jonathan. Her entire face is alight with triumphant glee. It’s impossible not to grin back.

Until that is, over Nancy’s shoulder, Jonathan spots Steve’s dazed eyes. It’s then, before he even registers that Steve’s down on one knee and pulling a ring out of his pocket, that Jonathan understands what’s happening.

Jonathan clings to the ball of light glowing inside him for he knows that in a few hours, when he’s laying in bed with Bowie sprawled out over his chest, it’ll dim and he’ll be left with the monstrous jealousy he hates so much. It was easier when he was just jealous of Steve. This deep-seated jealousy he carries now is dark and ugly and the only thing he hates about loving them. 

For now, he can keep the beast at bay. His eyes prick as he wordlessly tips his head to Steve.

Nancy must take it as a cue to gloat at Steve because her grin sharpens. She shifts around, still holding her dictionary up. “How’s it feel to be —” She stops suddenly, her sentence punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. She chucks the dictionary onto the sofa. For a second, Jonathan thinks she’ll just fling herself into Steve’s arms and not give him a second to actually pop the question before she tells him yes but aside from that single movement, she stays still, her hands limp in the air.

“I didn’t mean to do this now,” Steve says slowly. He’s as still as she is. It’s almost disorienting — Steve’s always fidgeting, moving around, fingers tapping, knees bouncing — but it makes sense. Nancy’s always grounded him. In his hand, tucked in the opened red box, the ring glints. “But I just can’t wait another second not asking you, not being engaged to you. I’ve loved you since I was a stupid and thoughtless jack-ass at sixteen, and a decade later, I love you more than I did then. I never thought you could _really_ be in love with someone forever without it getting stale, but then I met you and I understood. You inspire me. You make me laugh and think and open my mind. You’re funny, and thoughtful, and smart, and driven, and passionate, and everyone who knows you is better off for it. I love you now and I’ll love whoever you’ll be tomorrow, next week, next year, in the next decade we get together. So, uh. Marry me?” 

Steve laughs shakily. His knee starts to wobble and Jonathan has to sit on his hands to keep from reaching past Nancy to steady him so it’s good that Nancy does it instead.

He wishes so badly he could see Nancy’s face right now. But judging from how Steve’s nervous smile brightens and he comes to life, he has to imagine that Nancy’s spilling with the same joy.

“Steve,” she says breathlessly. “I’m going to marry you _so_ fucking hard.” And then she’s surging forward, slotting her arms around his neck, and peppering his face with kisses. They fall back on the carpet in a fit of laughter, legs tangled together. The ring gets lost in the shuffle and ends up lodged on the Scrabble board. 

Jonathan moves for the first time in minutes and retrieves the ring. He’s been teased often for being Steve and Nancy’s third-wheel and yes, okay, he sees the irony but neither Steve nor Nancy have ever understood it entirely.

“We’re just close,” Nancy’ll insist with Steve nodding along. “We’re a trio. We work better like that.”

He wonders what they would say now as he holds their engagement ring, glued into his spot three feet away from them. Does he leave? Does he say goodbye with a note? Does he just leave the ring on the table before he goes? Does he say anything at all? 

But he can’t just interrupt their post-proposal bliss. Steve didn’t mean for Jonathan to be here. He’d proposed this way as a spur of the moment decision. Jonathan respects that this moment is private, shared between fiancés. The bit of knowledge that he’s always understood but is finally cemented hits him in the throat — he doesn’t have a place here.

He leaves the ring on the corner of the coffee table. As discreetly as possible, he stands and half-jogs towards the front door.

When he twists the doorknob, the front door creaks. In his peripheral, he sees Nancy and Steve’s heads shoot up.

“Jonathan!” Nancy shouts. “Where are you going?”

Jonathan reluctantly looks over his shoulder. He tries a smile but he fails to conceal his utter bewilderment. “ _Home_?”

“Dude,” Steve says, “I didn’t mean to — holy shit, man, I’m so sorry —”

“Don’t be. It’s ... fine.” Jonathan’s smile becomes more real as Nancy and Steve scramble to their feet. “I’m so happy for you two. Congrats. C’mon, let’s, uh. Put the ring on. I left it on the table.”

Steve retrieves the ring and with an almost shy look, slides it over Nancy’s ring finger. He bends and presses a kiss below that knuckle.

Nancy beams. As soon as he stands back to full height, she closes the already small distance between them with a kiss.

Jonathan wonders if he should just leave now, wary of what that kiss will lead to, but it promptly ends. Nancy and Steve dart towards him. Before he can even comment on how perfect the ring is on her, Nancy tackles him in a tight, bone-crushing hug. 

He hugs her back with the same earnestness. He lets a second pass with her head tucked against his chest and his leaned against the top of her head. Then he follows his instinct, presses a soft kiss to her forehead. Before his mind can yell at him for doing something so stupid, she pulls back and smiles at him. Much of her hair has fallen out of her ponytail. Her body is flushed pink. A thin coat of sweat paints her face. Her smile grows by the millisecond. She’s spilling with happiness. 

“Love you, Nance.”

She takes his face into her hands, pushes back loose strands of hair. “Love you too.”

The moment Nancy steps back, Steve’s crowding into Jonathan’s space. This time, Jonathan sees it coming, knows it’s okay to go for it, which is how both boys meet in the middle and hug at the same time. Steve hugs Jonathan so hard that he lifts him off his feet.

He has the same instinct to kiss Steve, maybe on the cheek instead, but that’s riskier so he just hides his face in Steve’s shoulder and breathes him in.

“You already know,” Steve says so quietly by Jonathan’s ear that his breath tickles his skin.

Jonathan feels a sharp pang in his chest. He wants to ask Steve to say it anyway and just barely resists the temptation. Instead, he clings to him tighter, breathes against his neck, “You too.”

He forces himself to disentangle from Steve and take two giant steps back. “You two have a good night — celebrating. We’ll talk soon, love-birds. You just — you both — you deserve this big good thing.” His breath hitches as he takes them in, Nancy’s head against Steve’s arm, his arm looped around her side, their joined hands resting on Nancy’s waist. “Goodnight. Congrats.”

“Goodnight,” they echo, tiny smiles of their own. 

He walks out into the cold night, forcing himself to keep his gaze straight and not turn back. He feels their eyes on him, watching him to ensure he gets in the car safe and leaves alright. Usually, he’ll walk backwards and their conversation will extend until he’s in the driver’s seat. (Most nights, it’ll continue even when he’s strapped in his car.) But tonight, he doesn’t think he could bear it.

He waits for it to come. A rush of tears, a crushing dread, his heart sinking. Something ugly. Something mean. Something selfish. But even on his drive home, when he showers, when he lies in bed, it never comes. 

He supposes that this awful feeling will come out when the wedding happens.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry, what? You were _there_ during the proposal?”

Jonathan stirs his bowl of chicken noodle soup, staring at the bottom with a half-hearted shrug. “It’s not really that weird.”

“Dude,” Robin says, appalled.

“Okay, yeah, I hoped saying it out loud would make it less weird but it just made it worse.”

Kali’s snores from the sofa become louder. After coming back from Chicago just half an hour ago, Kali had sprawled out on the sofa and promptly fell asleep. Jonathan grabbed her a blanket and pillow. Robin carefully slipped the pillow underneath Kali’s head while Jonathan draped the blanket over her frame. Then, the two of them settled into the kitchen. Jonathan had just finished making soup for himself before they’d arrived back from their all-day drive so he grabbed Robin a bowl as well.

Robin slurps another spoonful of broth. “Did Steve forget you were there then?”

“Probably.” Jonathan hates saying it as if Steve would be thoughtless like that, but there isn’t really another answer to Robin’s question.

“Hm. That’s ... hm.” He can see the gears in her mind turning as she nibbles on a piece of chicken. He worries about what she’ll say, if she’ll call him out maybe, but she just says, “Any of them cried?”

“Not while I was there. They were close to it, though.”

“And it was just over Scrabble?”

“Mhm. Like I told you, Steve didn’t mean to. He just ... felt really overwhelmed by his feelings for Nance and couldn’t wait another second.”

“Of course.” She smiles shortly before she yawns. 

“You should get some sleep. Long drive today.”

“Shut up, you made some pretty damn good soup and I want it.”

He bites back a smile and nods. “You got it. Long as you tell me all about your trip. You and Kali had a good time?”

“‘Course.” He doesn’t miss the blush that sweeps down her neck but he doesn’t comment on it. It’s only fair when she didn’t comment on his blush when he told her the proposal story.

.

.

.

October is a blur, going by quickly with the joy of the engagement spreading throughout the entire month.

He isn’t there when Nancy tells her parents or Steve tells his — Kali jokes on one of their Friday night dinners that he should have been, considering he was there during the proposal, and Jonathan wills himself not to blush — but he is there when they tell Joyce and Hopper.

It’s for a weekend lunch at the home Joyce and Hopper had bought a few years ago. It’s about the same size as the old Byers home, where Jonathan and Kali still reside, but it feels much bigger now that the home has no kids living inside.

“We just wanted to, uh, tell you guys something,” Nancy says loudly. All the young adults instantly fall quiet.

Joyce and Hopper glance at each other, only for a fraction of a second but long enough that Jonathan knows they know before they nod at Nancy. 

“What is it?” Hop asks.

“Do you wanna say it?” Steve says to Nancy.

“We can count and say it at the same time?”

“On three or after?”

“How it’ll be _on three_ if we’re the ones saying three —”

“Oh my god, guys.” On Nancy’s right, Kali lightly kicks Nancy’s foot. “Do it in the next three seconds or I will.”

Nancy kicks her back right as she raises her left hand and together, she and Steve say, “We’re getting married!”

Robin cups her hands around her mouth and cheers. Jonathan claps. Joyce’s hands fly to her face, almost covering her huge smile, while Hop wordlessly touches her shoulder. 

Hop doesn’t look to have much of a reaction. But then his face slips as he rasps out “Really?” and Jonathan realizes he’s trying hard not to cry.

Nancy nods, looking so surprised that Jonathan aches. 

Ted didn’t have much of a response. “First he said to make sure the Harringtons don’t make us pay the entire bill,” Nancy had said with a tight smile, trying to pass it off like it was funny and not terribly sad. In their break room, she had her legs crossed, and a pencil so tightly gripped that it was a wonder it didn’t break in two. “Then, after my mom elbowed him, he said congrats. And gave me a handshake.” 

So this, Hopper apparently giving up on not crying and jumping out of his seat to lift Nancy in a hug, is more than what she deserves. 

It’s a blur after that of hugs and more tears and everyone’s laughter about the proposal story. How Nancy wanted to beat Steve to the punch, how Steve proposed in the middle of Scrabble, how Jonathan was there.

“Wait,” Robin speaks over the overlapping of everyone’s voices. “You never told us. What made you want to propose to Nancy?”

“Because I love her.”

“I know _that._ But why now?”

Nancy pats Steve’s knee. “It’s sweet. Tell ‘em.”

On Steve’s right, Jonathan also pats Steve but on the arm instead. It occurs to him he doesn’t know this either, which is odd because, again, not to overemphasize this but he _was_ there during the proposal so it’s strange this story is one he isn’t already familiar with. It stings, a little, even though by the way Kali and Robin both lean close to hear this, they don’t know the story either.

Steve rubs his palms together. “Okay, well, Nance and I went on a late Walmart run at, like, the end of July? We had a craving for Kraft dinner but we couldn’t find our keys so we just raced. I literally run every other morning but _she_ beat me and by the time I got there, she already had a cart full of Kraft dinner. So we’re buying and while I pay, she’s waiting by the front doors ‘cuz there was some dude playing violin but like. Beethoven? Fur Elise, I’m pretty sure. Anyway, I pay, and the cashier’s this lovely old woman and she says she saw my wife run in, out of breath and laughing. Only when she saw me run in minutes later did she realize why _my wife_ was so happy and that it warmed her heart to see us so happy and in love. 

“I didn’t correct her ‘cuz I was too hung up on how nice it sounded, You know? _My wife._ And I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to hear that for the rest of my life. We’ve talked about marriage before, that we wanted it at some point, after school and our careers were solid. I thought about it, wanting it so badly but not sure if it was just a crazy idea until I told Jonathan about it and he just, well. His reaction was the last thing that confirmed to me that it was the right thing to do.”

Every set of eyes land on Jonathan’s. But all can he do is look past Steve, at Nancy. Her hand still rests on Steve’s knee but she’s clutching it now, the thumb of her other hand twiddling with her ring. She’s looking back at Jonathan, her blue eyes big and bright, and he wants to smile but she looks like the breath has been knocked out of her.

Jonathan realizes she too didn’t know the last part of Steve’s story. The part that included Jonathan.

Everyone “aw!”s and floods Steve with questions so he doesn’t notice either person next to him. 

Jonathan wants to apologize to Nancy but he doesn’t know for what. He doesn’t know why guilt sears through him, why she’s looking at him like that. He can’t parse the expression but it makes him squirm with discomfort.

He’s the first to look away but only because Robin nudges his foot from across him. “Let the planning begin, huh?”

After dinner, Jonathan hangs around to help clean up. Everyone stuck around, cleaned their dishes, packed the leftovers, reluctantly accepted said leftovers, but he stays back to wipe the countertops and tables, just for a few minutes to catch his breath. His friends crowd the living room down the hall, laughing at Hopper. They’re loud enough that Jonathan hears them clearly.

“I’m not dyeing my hair pink,” he says, shocked.

“C’mon, James,” Kali insists. “We’ll get matching styles. You, me, and Jane. Jane already has it anyway, so —”

“She _what_?”

Jonathan chuckles as he sets the last glass cup into the upper-top cabinet. 

“She already told me about the pink hair.” At the sound of his mother, Jonathan turns around and leans against the kitchen counter. “I told El and Kali I’ll get it with them.”

“You’d look gorgeous with some pink in your hair.” He’s completely serious so he doesn’t know why Joyce laughs as hard as she does.

Joyce steps towards him, stops when she’s right next to him. “You could join us.” She lifts herself up on her tiptoes to card her fingers through a strand of his hair. “This but pink? Wouldn’t that be lovely?” 

“Mhm. Get Will to and we’d be matching as a family.”

Joyce laughs again. “Would make for an excellent family portrait.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. He looks at her, eyes sweeping past the silver in her hair, and wants suddenly to launch himself in her arms and ask her to hold him for a while. He’s been taller than her for ages now but she still feels so much bigger — like one hug from her could shield him from the rest of the world, forever. 

It’s like she can read his mind because right then, she gently pulls his arms around her neck before she wraps hers around his waist. Her thumb sweeps up and down his shoulder-blade. He buries his head into her hair, taking in the scent of cinnamon and mint toothpaste. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I’m good. Honest.”

“You don’t have to protect me from anything. Not anymore. Let me help you.”

“I’m okay. I promise. I just, I don’t know. It’s a weird day.”

“Is it about your friends getting married? Feels like they’re growing up without you?”

His chest hurts. “Something like that.”

She rubs up and down his back, and he wants, absurdly, to cry with relief. “Oh, Jonathan, you know they love you, right? That’ll never change.”

“I know, but —” He hiccups, willing himself to calm down. “I don’t know, I guess it’s scary. You always know things will change but it’s a distant thing, too far away to even think about, except it’s not, it’s right here, and it happens before you know it, and it’s — it’s happening now, mom.”

“It’s always happening,” she says gently. “And you have always and will always make it through. But you won’t lose them.”

He pulls back, desperate to see Joyce’s kind eyes harden with her certainty. “You can’t say that for sure.”

“Yes, I can.” Joyce cups his jaw, and there it is, the look in her eyes he needed to see. “I know life hasn’t given you plenty of reasons to trust it but you don’t have to. Just trust Nancy and Steve.”

And he does. So fucking much. 

“I love you, mom.” Warmth pools inside of him when she strokes his shoulder again. He’s said it a million times to her but she still lights up, complete and utter adoration all over her face as she says it back.

A gentle knock steals their attention. “Oh, I don’t mean to interrupt —”

“You’re not.” Jonathan shoots Nancy a tentative smile as she steps out of the kitchen doorway towards them. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Of course. I just wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay?”

Joyce disentangles from Jonathan. She speed-walks out of the kitchen, touching Nancy’s back as she goes. “I’ll leave you two be.”

As soon as Joyce is gone, Jonathan frowns. “Something’s wrong. What is it?” 

Nancy hops onto the kitchen counter. She swings her legs, pats the spot next to her. 

Wordlessly, Jonathan joins her. Their knees and shoulders touch. It’s not the first time they’ve been this close, years of friendship ensuring many positions like this, squeezed in the back of Joyce and Hop’s minivan or packed in with all their friends in a single bed or when they both fall asleep watching X-Files only because their days tired them out too much to enjoy the show. 

Yet, something about this feels different. He stares at her ring instead of her eyes, hyper-aware of every breath he takes.

“You’re my best friend,” she says quietly. 

“You’re mine.”

“You have to know that you — you’re so — I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I wouldn’t ever want to, just thinking about that is —” He swallows, throat dry. 

“Me too. And I know, marriage always changes things, especially the idiots who say it won’t, but just call me an idiot because it’s not changing us.”

He lays his hand out over her thigh, pinky out. “I promise.”

She hooks her pinky around his. “Good.”

He wraps his arm around her back right as she rests her head against his shoulder. He wants to believe her but he can’t. He wonders if she believes herself — if she’s lying for his sake, hers, or both. 

Right now, though, he can’t be bothered to care. His worries seem both distant and somehow possible to overcome. Nancy Wheeler has that effect. 

They don’t let go of each other’s pinkies for quite some time. 

.

.

.

“Honey, please.”

“Whose wedding is this, mom? Yours or mine?”

“Considering _we’ll_ be paying —”

“No, you’re not! You’d only have to if we invite the million people on this novel-sized list which, guess what, we won’t!”

Across the Wheeler table, Jonathan and Holly catch each other’s eyes. She rolls her eyes, sinking further in her seat. He chuckles as quietly as possible, cracking a tiny smile from the youngest Wheeler.

Karen and Nancy are on either side of them. Both have longed since risen from their seats, now on the brink of shouting. Karen’s wide eyes threaten to bulge out, her finger jabbing in the air. “It’s not polite, Nancy.”

Nancy laughs, crossing her arms below her chest. “I refuse to live based purely off of what’s _polite_ or not.”

Karen clenches her jaw. She fumes, smoothing out her long pink skirt. “Jonathan,” she chirps, and Jonathan has never felt such a visceral fear for Karen before. “What do you think?”

“Oh,” he says lamely. His hand freezes mid-air on his way to retrieve another one from the batch of homemade cookies Karen left out, the plate in the centre of all the table clutter Holly calls _part one of the wedding nightmare_. Magazines, photo albums, scissors, glue, and Karen’s thick stack for the guest-list she honestly thinks Nancy will relent on. 

Holly clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She pushes a lock of her freshly-dyed green hair out of her face, eyebrows raised at her mother. “Don’t drag Jonathan into this.”

Nancy looks at him almost pityingly. “You really don’t have to.”

“I know,” he tells her right before he plasters on a bright smile for Karen. “I know you mean well but don’t you think it’s important that Nancy has it her way on this one? She’ll only get married once. And you have two other children whose weddings can fit your vision better.”

Karen snorts. “Ah yes, my daughter with green hair and a nose piercing, which I still have no idea how you got, by the way —”

Holly and Nancy share a quick look, both sisters biting back identical smiles. The nose-ring incident happened earlier this year in April. Holly and Karen had a huge fight over it. Holly wanted one. Karen refused. When Karen reeled Ted in to put a stop to this, rather than talk ‘some sense’ into his thirteen-year-old daughter, he made everything worse. He ended up saying several nasty things about the “type of woman” a nose-piercing would turn Holly into. Karen was mortified. Holly was heartbroken but even angrier and thus more resolute on having her way. Mike had to drive in to talk to Ted. 

Nancy had asked Holly if she really wanted the piercing. Holly said yes. They made a deal: don’t tell mom and Nancy would pay for the piercing and take her herself. With some of Karen’s clothes, they managed to pass Nancy off as Holly’s very young mother. The sisters, Kali, and Jonathan, who drove, took Holly to a proper piercing shop. Jonathan took pictures. They got ice-cream afterward.

Ted hadn’t even noticed the piercing. 

In an attempt to make up for her husband’s cruelty, Karen staved off saying anything for a full week. Since then, it had been a point of contention between the mother and daughter. Karen had suspected Nancy took her but Jonathan promised Karen that Nancy was with him, late at work finishing a piece, so she couldn’t possibly have taken Holly. He had felt bad for a second at lying. But then Holly’s shocked and pleased smile as she sat in the very seat she’s sitting in now made it all worth it.

“Seriously, young lady, one day you’re going to tell me how you got that hole in your nose,” Karen says.

Holly taps her black stud. “Highly doubt that.”

“Jonathan, you think this child will listen to any of my wedding suggestions?”

Nancy rubs her temples. “Mom, you have another child you know. Does the name Mike ring any bells?”

As Holly balances her chair, leaning it against the wall with her feet up, she furrows her eyebrows. “Mike? I don’t know a Mike.”

“Of course I didn’t forget about Michael,” Karen huffs, but the corner of her lips quirks up into a smile. She shuffles past the table to the kitchen and pulls out several mugs. “But he’s a _boy_.”

“Acute observation,” Nancy says. Holly bursts into a fit of giggles.

Karen heaves a long sigh. “You’re both incorrigible. I mean that he’ll be a groom and it’s different when it’s your daughter getting married. I just want a magical night for you.”

Nancy joins her mother in the kitchen. She slips an arm around her waist, pressing her face into Karen’s shoulder. “And it will be. On my own terms.”

“Take a chill pill, mom,” Holly chimes in. Despite her words, she says it warmly.

Jonathan stays quiet, unwilling to interrupt the Wheeler women’s moment. He takes cookie after cookie and watches as Karen’s resolve crumbles. 

“I don’t know, Nancy ...” Karen sighs. 

Okay, he still doesn’t want to intrude but he knows just what’ll work.

“Holly,” he whispers. “Go over there. If you join their hug and bat your eyes —”

Holly’s face wrinkles. “ _Bat my eyes_?”

“You know what I mean. Go over there and take one for the team.”

Holly bites her lip, tapping along the back of her seat. “Fine.” She stands so quickly her chair nearly falls over and runs to join them. Crashing into them, she proclaims, “You have _full_ control over what I wear to the wedding if you drop it and let Nance do her thing.”

“Really!?” The gigantic grin on Karen’s face, how all the tension in her body drains just like that, is answer enough: she’ll give Nancy her space for the wedding.

“Yes,” Holly says forlornly. 

“Now can we change that to _your_ wedding —”

“Absolutely not. Squash those expectations and squash them right now.”

Nancy giggles, ruffling Holly’s hair. She catches Jonathan’s eyes and mouths, thank you. 

Jonathan flushes. He thought he’d been quieter when asking Holly to go up there but maybe it’s just a Nancy thing. She’s always heard him when he thought no one did. 

.

.

.

Thanksgiving is a bit of a mess.

“Why do his _parents_ want me over?” Nancy asks the Friday before Thanksgiving. She has a glass of wine in one hand, the other stroking Kali’s hair as Kali settles her head in Nancy’s lap.

Robin snorts. Across from Nancy on the carpeted floor, she foots Nancy’s ankle. “It’s almost like you’re their daughter-in-law.”

Nancy sips her wine, hiding her grimace. “You know how many times I’ve met his parents in the decade I’ve dated him?”

Jonathan smirks. He’s sitting next to Nancy, the rest of Kali sprawled over him, with his back to the sofa. He knows the answer to Nancy’s question, watching the quizzical look between Kali and Robin with amusement.

“Ten times?” Robin tries.

Nancy makes a loud beeping noise. “Negative.”

Kali rolls over, back of her head against Nancy’s lap to meet Nancy’s eyes. “Five.”

“Nope.”

Robin tosses the speed-car piece from the long game of Monopoly they had to quit part way through before their friendships were irreversibly ruined. It bounces off of Jonathan’s knee. “You know, don’t you?”

He glances at Nancy, raising an eyebrow.

She grins, stretching her arms behind her, and nods.

“Twice,” he says.

Robin gawks. “No fucking way.”

Kali sits up, scooting off of Jonathan’s legs, and gapes at Nancy. “ _How_?”

“Great question! I have no idea. They’ve just never shown an interest in meeting me, I guess, and Steve’s never pushed for it. I certainly wasn’t going to push for it either, so.” Nancy shrugs, tugging her long purple cardigan tighter around herself. “But now I have to and his parents will forcibly un-engage us.”

Everyone mulls this over. Steve rarely talks about his parents and that alone would warrant a dislike of them. But what little he has spoken of them?

Well, it’s made Jonathan even more baffled how such parents could produce a son like him. It makes sense for the Steve he knew all those years ago, sure, but it makes Jonathan appreciate the changes he underwent even more considering he had such apathetic and neglectful parents.

They just don’t care. They see Steve as a possession, something to flaunt, an investment they expected to bank on later on. Steve’s father is worse, aggressive, cold, and uninterested. He’s never said it out loud but Jonathan knows that Steve likes his mom more. The problem with her, though, is that she’s too close and unconditionally supportive of her husband. 

(Jonathan knows the circumstances are different but he wonders the kind of life he would’ve had if his mother had chosen his father instead. Whatever life it would’ve been, it certainly wouldn’t have been the one he has now.)

Nancy dislikes them but she tries not to be vocal about it. She invites Steve to the Wheelers for every birthday, his included, celebration, family dinner, and holidays. Usually, the two go to the Wheelers for Thanksgiving then come to Jonathan’s afterwards.

Apparently not this year, though.

Kali’s eyes narrow. “Did Steve tell them he was gonna propose before he did it?” 

Nancy laughs so hard she snorts, shaking her head. “Nope. We’re both bracing ourselves for what happens if they pull a _you’re not good enough for our son_ bullshit. Honestly, we have no idea what else to expect from this.” 

“You don’t have to worry about the engagement breaking off,” Robin says, hugging her knees to her chest. She grabs a handful of chips from the bowl in between them. “He’d choose you before them in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Nancy says but a spark lights up in her eyes. “It’s just ... I hate that he’s going to be put in a weird position. I also hate that he’ll have to see me yell at his parents because that’s going to fucking happen if they try anything. They think they can just sleep through most of his life and get to pick and choose what’s good for him _now_? Fuck that.”

Jonathan’s about to voice his agreement until he notices the clock. “Hey, I have to pick Steve up. Be back in ten. Want me to buy anything?”

“Better parents for Steve,” Nancy grumbles.

“I have forty dollars in cash and a coupon for McDonald’s.”

“Maybe some fries and ice cream?” Robin suggests.

He agrees. They say goodbye to him before promptly discussing Steve’s shitty parents and the best response to give them in case of any emergency that’ll arise from their upcoming Thanksgiving lunch. 

The community centre is less than five minutes away from Nancy and Steve’s home. Steve picked it up part-time during his time at Hawkins’ community college, just needing the money, but fell in love instantly. It was great for everyone. Steve had expressed his anxiety about, in his words, the “negative two and a half ideas I have about my dumb fucking future” so to see him find what he loved was amazing. Plus, he got everyone discounts for some of the classes the centre provided adults — swimming, ballroom dancing, yoga. (Jonathan and Kali take yoga classes from September to December and January to June, per the two yearly sessions they provide, Saturday mornings at nine am.)

Steve’s active, friendly, good with people, especially the kids. He fits in perfectly.

And don’t tell him, but he also looks sort of ridiculously cute in the uniform, a simple red shirt with the community centre’s name emblazoned over the front, and a whistle dangling from his neck.

Steve’s already sitting out by the bench, chatting with a young boy. He doesn’t notice Jonathan at first. As Jonathan parks in front of the centre, he catches the conversation.

“You’re wrong,” Steve tells the boy.

“Am not! Batman is dumb.”

“Dude. Stop. He’s an orphan. How can you talk about an orphan like that?”

“He’s dumb and he keeps on losing to Joker! Why doesn’t he just kill him already?” It’s baffling to hear this come out of the mouth of a child who can’t be older than eight.

It’s also baffling, but very on brand, to hear Steve retort, “The fact that you’re aligning yourself with Joker right now is very distressing, I sincerely hope you don’t become a murder — oh, hey, Johnny! Luke, this is my friend.”

Luke waves, his toothy smile aimed at Jonathan. “Hi, Johnny!”

Jonathan leans his head out the window and smiles. “Hey, Luke. Is Steve harassing you?”

“Yes, but it’s okay.”

“Waiting for your parents?”

“Nope! I have a late swimming class that I’m missing by talking to Steve.”

Steve squawks, his jaw dropping. With one hand on his hip, he tips his head at the automatic doors that lead into the community centre. “Dude! Go inside. It’s freezing out and you’re talking to me about — oh my god, okay, great convo, we’ll talk next week, but please don’t be late or Marissa will kill me.”

Luke leaves. He cackles the entire way, his backpack bouncing as he half-jogs inside. 

Steve shakes his head, thumbing the strap of his backpack. Once Luke has entered the centre, Steve walks around the car and slides into the passenger seat. He throws his backpack into the backseat before he claps Jonathan’s shoulder. 

“Were you waiting long?” Jonathan asks, checking every mirror to ensure the way’s clear.

“Nah. Thanks for getting me. Kal and Robin are home?”

“Yup. Nance was telling us about Thanksgiving.”

Steve groans into his hands. “My fucking parents, man. It’s not even that lunch with them is unbearable, which it is, but it’s on a day we usually spend with, you know. Actual family.”

Jonathan nods as he drives out, heading for the McDonalds two minutes away.

“And they don’t think to ask if we have plans already. They’ve never tried to get to know Nance and they don’t even fucking know your name —”

It’s true. Like Nancy, Jonathan has met Steve’s parents twice — he was even with her one of the times. Right around the end of Jonathan and Nancy’s senior year, Steve’s parents had arrived home while they were hanging out in Steve’s basement. The second time was only last year. Jonathan walked to Steve and Nancy’s place with Bowie, eager to talk a walk with them. 

He used his key to open the door and found Steve’s father talking to Steve in the doorway.

Mr. Harrington, dressed in a suit with his greying hair neatly combed, had grunted in Jonathan’s direction. His lower lip curled up at Bowie. “Who’s this?”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “This is Jonathan.”

“Lonnie Byers’ son?” 

Jonathan had bristled, grip around Bowie’s leash tightening right as Bowie started barking incessantly. He didn’t say anything. He sure as hell didn’t expect Steve to say something either.

“No, he’s Joyce Byers’ son.”

“Why’s he have a damn key to your house?”

“How’s that any of your goddamn business?”

“You watch your fucking mouth with me, boy.”

In a flash, Jonathan wedged himself between both men. His back to Steve, he gently pushed Steve further behind him and then raised his hand to Mr. Harrington indicating he back the fuck up. 

Mr. Harrington fumed. “This is none of your —” 

“Steve,” Jonathan said calmly, “should he stay or should he go?”

Steve’s short breathing and the hand clutching the back of Jonathan’s shirt was answer enough. “Go.”

“There we go,” Jonathan said. “The door’s open. Get out.”

“You should learn to keep your nose out of other families’ business. This town afforded you that when your fath —”

“Shut up,” Steve snarled. Jonathan had to push back against him to keep Steve from charging forward. “And leave.”

“Great chat, Steve,” Mr. Harrington said before he finally left.

Jonathan closed the door, his shoulders slumping with relief. He released Bowie’s leash, Bowie only moving to crowd around Steve anyway, and took hold of both of Steve’s shoulders. “You okay?”

“Fuck no.” Steve blinked rapidly, his breath hitching. He stared at a spot on the wall, expression glazed, voice empty. “I hate him so much.”

“Can I make you coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

So Jonathan made them both coffee and Steve played with Bowie and they didn’t talk about it until Nancy got home from her dentist appointment, and —

Jonathan has never seen Steve cry like that before. He hopes he’ll never have to again.

Steve’s still venting about his dad when Jonathan pulls into the McDonalds’ drive-through but falls silent once Jonathan rolls the window down. “McDonald’s?”

“Mhm. We’re gonna get some fries and some ice cream and forget all about your parents.”

“Can we make a detour first? Before we go back home?”

Minutes later, with a bag of several large fries and a tray of their ice cream, when Steve tells Jonathan to drive to the Harrington residence, Jonathan doesn’t ask why. It’s been a few years since he’s been back, naturally having no reason to go once Steve and Nancy moved in together, but from all the days he spent there as a teenager, driving back is like muscle-memory.

He doesn’t park in the driveway but by the side of the road. He turns the car off and waits.

Steve spends several long moments just staring out his window. Eventually, he says, “You even know how much you’ve given me?”

Jonathan’s throat clogs up. “What do you mean?”

“If I hadn’t gone back to your house that day to apologize, at that _exact_ moment, I — I have no idea what could’ve happened. Who I would’ve been.”

“I’m glad you came,” Jonathan says firmly. He wants to touch Steve. Tilt his chin, force him to look at Jonathan. Hold his face. Squeeze his hand. He’s not brave enough for that but his ounce of courage gets him to touch Steve’s knee. “I don’t want to think about my life without you in it.”

At least his words do the trick. Steve turns around so suddenly that Jonathan jumps back. “Me too,” he whispers. “I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jonathan insists softly.

Steve covers the hand Jonathan has on his knee, hooking their thumbs together. “Sure you did.”

“You’re my best friend, you know.”

Across the street, two boys chase each other, shriek-laughing as they go. The Harrington’s neighbour’s dog barks in their front lawn. The sky is rapidly darkening, specks of pink dying, stars ready to dot the night. The November air bites at his skin but Steve’s hand is warm in his.

Steve smiles. “I know. And you’re mine too.”

.

.

.

Will’s been taller than Jonathan for a while now but it’s still disconcerting when he hugs his brother and is confronted once more with their height difference.

That discomfort is quickly overwhelmed by relief, though.

Will, El, and all the other kids — who aren’t technically kids anymore, which Jonathan can’t accept — are home for the holidays. It’s picture-perfect this year. Snow, everywhere. Christmas lights hung up in and outside almost every home, save for theirs. Decorations, music, and red and green in every public building. (Jonathan almost always bumps into the stupid inflatable reindeer in the office. He hates it. It’s not even Rudolph.)

The kids are all back for the holidays. Will, El, and Max stay at his parents’ place. Lucas and Dustin stay at their respective family homes. Mike lodges with Nancy and Steve, having found it imperative to tell Steve “I’m only here because I cannot spend a week with my dad.” Holly had found this all unfair and convinced everyone to let her stay at Nancy’s for a few days. 

Meanwhile, Nancy and Steve unfortunately spend the first half of Christmas Eve with Steve’s parents. Thanksgiving had been just a “welcome to the family” type thing. Apparently, they hadn’t thought Nancy and Steve were serious — because ten years and a home together weren’t serious — and they wanted to get to know Nancy properly. 

“I still don’t like them,” Nancy confessed to Jonathan in their break-room. “But Steve liked that they were at least trying and his mother isn’t the worst, so I mean. We do what we have to. As long as he’s happy.” 

Jonathan just hopes it doesn’t become a yearly tradition that superimposes theirs. Nancy and Steve spend most of their Christmas day with the Wheelers while Robin spends it with her parents but Christmas Eve is all theirs.

“More than half of you don’t live here,” Hopper grumbles, making a displeased noise as Lucas slides a woolly Santa hat over Hopper’s head. “Actually, _none_ of you live here.”

Max stops combing through the fridge to raise an eyebrow at Hopper. “Then tell us to leave.”

“We dare you,” Dustin adds, pouring M&Ms into a glass bowl.

All the kids, Jonathan included from his seat at the dining table, stare at Hop.

Hop tugs his Santa hat further down his head. “Leave. Eventually. Not now.”

El sidles up to him and presses a kiss to his bearded cheek. “No. We’ll never leave.”

Hopper ruffles her head, though it doesn’t have quite the effect considering her recent buzzcut. “I’ve accepted it for a long time now,” he says, fond.

Perched up on the kitchen counter, legs swinging back and forth, Will asks, “When’s Mike getting here?”

El elbows him. “Why, you don’t already know?”

The kids all snicker. Jonathan wonders what exactly he’s missing out on. Even Hop doesn’t look confused, smirking as he sips his coffee, which, okay, that hurts. In what universe does _Hopper_ know about something before Jonathan?

Jonathan catches his brother’s gaze and raises his eyebrows.

Will just nods, a nonverbal _we’ll talk later._

The front door opens. Before Jonathan can check the door, rapid footsteps bounce through the house and in a flash, Kali’s dashed into the kitchen and has thrown her arms around El and Will.

“My kids,” she exclaims, despite her head reaching Will’s shoulder. The hug is a mess of arms and heads smushed together and Jonathan doesn’t hesitate to grab his camera and take a picture.

“We missed you too,” El says, sighing into Kali’s hair. 

“C’mon, Jon and I visited you two weeks ago.”

“ _Still.”_

Will presses a kiss to the back of Kali’s head. “You got shorter!” He puffs out a laugh when she jabs her fingers into his stomach.

“I’m gonna move all the snacks into the living room,” Lucas says, hoisting up several bottles of pop. Dustin trails behind him with his bowl of M&Ms.

Max plops into the seat next to Jonathan. “You doing good?”

“Yeah,” he tells her, mostly honest. “Work’s okay. Hawkins has been pretty dull which is the best thing it can be.”

She snorts. “Agreed.”

“You?”

“Yeah. Everything’s good. It’s ... weird.”

Jonathan takes in the sight of his siblings, still half-hugging, laughing and teasing each other. He looks over the matching pink streaks in El and Kali’s hair, the scarf winded around Will’s neck made by Joyce, who’s recently gotten into knitting. “It is weird, isn’t it?”

“Okay people who don’t live here,” Hopper says. “Who’d like to help make dinner for our lovely mother?”

Kali’s nose wrinkles. “She isn’t _your_ mother.”

Everyone laughs.

Hopper’s mouth opens. Closes. He takes a long sip of his coffee. “I’m so tired.”

“Lighten up,” Jonathan says. “Isn’t Santa supposed to be jolly?” That earns him more laughter and an eye-roll from his step-father who removes his hat and nestles it onto Jonathan’s head.

.

.

.

Mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve, Jonathan comes home from the convenience store, bags of junk food in his hands, and finds Kali on Robin’s back, the two laughing hysterically as Robin runs around the apartment to the low thrum of old Christmas music.

“Stop making me laugh or I’ll end up dropping you!” Robin insists.

Kali nuzzles along Robin’s neck, humming. “But I know you’ll catch me.”

Jonathan has a strange feeling that he should just leave. Honestly, it’s not the first time he’s felt that way around Kali and Robin, despite the fact that neither has ever indicated that they’re not only friends. Verbally, at least. Sometimes Robin will push Kali’s hair back with gentle fingers or Kali will wordlessly thread their fingers in the middle of a board game. He’s never asked Kali how she’s felt. He figures she’d tell him when she’s ready, having never considered there wasn’t _something_ there.

He considers turning around and heading back into the snow but Robin spots him first.

“Hey, man! The snow’s not too bad?” Robin grunts, adjusting her hold on Kali, and ambles towards Jonathan. 

Kali’s arm dives out and flicks some of the snow off of Jonathan’s coat. “Your face is so pink. C’mon, we’ll make you something hot to drink.”

Just then, the landline rings. “Got it,” Jonathan says, taking the two steps towards the wall to answer. “Hello?”

“Funny story,” Nancy says. “Our piece of shit car won’t start. Mike went out with the rest of the kids so we were hoping one of you could pick us up? Or come here instead, whatever’s easier —”

“It’s fine. I’ll come get you.”

“You’re the best, you know?”

He’s both glad that Nancy can’t see his face and that he has the excuse of the snow for his pink cheeks.

.

.

.

About fifteen minutes later, Jonathan runs up Nancy and Steve’s front porch. He knocks, wincing at how badly the combination of the door and the wind nipping at his skin hurts his fist. 

The front door flies open. Steve’s face lifts into a smile before it drops into a frown. “Where are your mittens? A scarf? Do you want frostbite?” He ushers Jonathan in, tugging his arm forward, and closes the door once Jonathan’s inside.

“Yes, exactly. I want to lose all of my fingers.”

“I’ll gladly chop ‘em off for ya.”

“Thank you.” Jonathan flexes his fingers, scrunching his pink nose. The warmth in the house is overwhelming and feels _good,_ even better when Steve runs his thumb down Jonathan’s cheek. It’s so pleasant that Jonathan forgets to feel awkward about it. “Where’s, uh, Nance?”

Steve wipes another melting snowflake off Jonathan’s chin. “Shower. I know, for once _she’s_ the one running late. C’mon, I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate.”

About ten minutes later, Nancy emerges from the shower. She and Steve are matching, both in identical bright red sweaters, Frosty the Snowman taking centre. Her hair’s let down, clipped back so it’s not in her face. As she sits next to Jonathan on the sofa, the pleasant smell of green-apple wafts through the air. He assumes it’s from her shampoo. Steve carries the same scent after his showers.

“Thanks for getting us,” she says. 

“Seriously,” Steve calls out from the kitchen, plucking marshmallows out from a large bag. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Can’t have you missing our Christmas Eve tradition,” Jonathan says. He sips his hot chocolate and hums. “Speaking of, how were Desmond and Diane today?”

Steve and Nancy let out matching groans.

“Darling, they’re your parents,” Nancy says, craning her head to look past the sofa at Steve. 

Steve brings over the full mug, walking slowly towards them. “Don’t remind me.”

“I mean you should tell him.”

“Oh. Well, it was ... god, it was terrifying. They’re both so unnecessarily formal and asked a million questions about Nance’s family and our intentions —”

“Our intentions!” Nancy repeats. “Obviously our intention is to get _married._ ”

Steve reaches them. He carefully passes Nancy her mug and she pecks his jaw in thanks. “He asked Nancy about her yearly income. Like. What the fuck.” He squeezes in next to Nancy on the sofa. 

“Yikes,” Jonathan says. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. No yelling though?”

“I almost wished there were,” Steve mutters. “At least it wouldn’t have been so painfully quiet. It’s like the complete opposite of either of your parents’ houses. Even though Karen doesn’t like me —”

“Not true,” Nancy protests.

“She doesn’t, not as much as she likes Jonathan —”

“Not true!” Jonathan says.

“You guys, the truth isn’t gonna hurt my feelings,” Steve says. “It’s fine. We all know she’d rather Nancy get married to Jonathan.”

Jonathan freezes. His hand wobbles, nearly spilling his remaining hot chocolate.

“Steve,” Nancy says softly with one hand on his back. “You know I don’t care what she thinks.”

Steve shoots Jonathan a look, almost like he’s guilty. “I know, I promise it’s fine, guys, I just — I’m just trying to say that even _then,_ I love being at your house. Your mom’s still real nice to me, I love Holly, and Mike only mildly tolerates me now instead of hating me. It’s great there! And Joyce and Hop are great, all of Jonathan’s siblings are the best, and it’s like — how do I feel least at home with my parents? It’s ridiculous.”

Nancy sets her mug onto the floor, a foot away from their feet. She leans her forehead against Steve’s, carding her fingers through his hair. 

Jonathan sort of wishes he’d decked Mr. Harrington in the face when he had the chance last year. “You have a home,” he says. “It’s just not them.” 

Nancy nods, lowering her hand from his face to cup his jaw. “You have us, okay? Always.” _Us_ means everyone, Jonathan reminds himself, even as Nancy pulls back and takes Jonathan’s hand into hers. “The two of us are here for you.” And okay, Jonathan has no idea how else to interpret that.

But it’s true.

“Always,” Jonathan adds. He follows Nancy’s suit, leaving his mug next to hers, and with his newly available hand, he clasps Steve’s shoulder. They’ve formed a small circle — though with the way Jonathan’s leaning at an angle, half-out of his seat, it’s more of a triangle — and he realizes with a warmth that they’re all holding hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve starts but Nancy interrupts him.

“Cut it out. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Your home is here, you know,” Jonathan says, gesturing to the living room. “You and Nance are gonna build your own family. You already have.”

Steve yanks their arms, grabs them both into a fierce hug. They stay like that for a while. Their hot chocolates grow cold.

.

.

.

“So I’m the best man, Kali’s the maid of honour, Robin and Holly are bridesmaids ... who am I missing?”

Steve tips his chin, gazing up at Nancy from his spot in her lap. The rest of his torso is across Jonathan’s lap. They’re all on the floor, having made another round of hot chocolate after their first batch went cold.

“The rest of the boys are Steve’s groomsmen,” Nancy says. “And Max and El are also my bridesmaids. Mom doesn’t understand why all of Mike’s friends are a part of our wedding but she’s cool with it.”

“And we have a date,” Jonathan says with a grin. “June 25th, 1994. It’s on my calendar.”

“He’s serious,” Nancy informs Steve. “It’s the one he has at work.”

Steve lights up, his laughter giddy as his feet kick up. “Really!? Oh, dude, that’s amazing.”

“I’m excited,” Jonathan says sincerely. “It’s gonna be one for the books. And, you know, it’d be weird if I wasn’t considering I was there during the proposal.”

“Okay, so my mom did think that was weird,” Nancy says.

Steve scratches his head. “So did Dustin.”

“And Kali.”

“And Robin.”

“And Mike.”

“And Lucas.”

“And El and Will,” Jonathan says. “I mean it’s not _that_ strange ...”

Nancy pats Jonathan’s shoulder. “You’re our close friend. Of course it’s not strange. Speaking of, we have something to talk to you about.”

It must be incredibly important because Steve actually gets up. He rolls off of their laps and sits up in one smooth motion, seating himself in front of Jonathan and Nancy. 

Jonathan’s heart almost pounds out of his chest. His palms sweat, his face heating up. He flits his gaze between them rapidly, hoping they can’t hear his thunderous heartbeat. 

Is this it? He’s never let himself wonder what it would be like, to be told by the people he loved that they loved him back. It seemed too torturous. But if he had to have imagined a scenario, it would have gone exactly like this. On their carpet, all three sitting so close their knees touch, an idyllic setting with the gentle snowfall, red and green lights hung up around their Christmas tree, the taste of hot chocolate on his tongue.

Jonathan finds enough bravery to speak. “What is it?” 

Nancy and Steve look at each other, hesitant, unsure. It’s the longest second of Jonathan’s life.

“We wanted to ask you if you would write a speech for the wedding,” Nancy says.

Oh.

The drop in his chest is so crushing he feels it everywhere. In every finger, toe, bone, muscle. He hates how disappointed he is, how stupid he was to think that maybe, somehow ...

“Of course,” he says. “I’d love to.”

.

.

.

“I want a scar.”

“You want to cut your hand?” 

“ _No,”_ Steve huffs, tracing a line alongside his palm. “But it’d be cool to have one like the one you and Jonathan have. We’d be matching.”

Jonathan kicks his leg out blindly. They’re all sprawled out on the floor, eyes up to the ceiling, but he manages to hit Steve’s knee. “We already are matching. Matching trauma.”

“But that’s not as fun,” Steve says. “Great, our nightmares overlap. We can’t take _pictures_ of our personal demons.”

“You can get a tattoo?” Nancy suggests. “Ooh, we can _all_ get tattoos.”

“Of what?” Jonathan asks.

“I don’t know. But wouldn’t that be cool?”

“Yes! We’ve always been close. A group. A —”

“A triangle,” Jonathan supplies more bitterly than intended. He tucks his hands behind his head, trying to ground himself from his stupid and crushing disappointment only half an hour ago. He focuses on what he can feel. The soft carpet underneath him. Nancy’s head by his thigh. Steve’s knee on his foot. 

“We could get a _triangle,_ ” Steve says. “With our initials or something. I don’t think Kali or Robin would be hurt, right?”

“No,” Nancy says. “They know we have a bond, just like they have with each other. It’s not like we like each other more or anything, it’s just ... different.”

Different. That’s one way of putting it.

It’s not their fault. It’s no one’s fault. This is just the hand he’s been dealt and now he has to figure out how to play it. How, he has no idea, but he has no choice.

They’re his best friends. That can’t change.

“You know you guys were my first actual friends.” Jonathan crosses one leg over the other, his heart surprisingly calm. “I always convinced myself that my mom and Will were enough but they aren’t. You can’t base your happiness off of two people, no matter who they are, you just. You need more. And you two, you ... you were so much more than I knew I could ever deserve.”

“Jonathan,” Nancy says, barely a whisper. Then, with the same fierceness he’s always loved in her, she adds, “You deserve everything good in this world.”

Steve flops onto his front and hooks his chin over Jonathan’s shoulder. “You really do, man.”

As Jonathan gestures for Nancy to come closer, he can’t help but think he already has everything good this world has to offer.

“I’m very happy I know you both,” he says, warm all over. “I promise I’ll write you guys a good speech. I’ll try not to cry.”

“You better _bawl,”_ Nancy says. Jonathan and Steve crack up. “I’m serious! I want tears from both of you.”

Steve slings his arm over Jonathan, his hand resting on Nancy’s stomach. “I’ll probably burst into happy tears when I see you down the aisle.”

“Seeing you walk towards me in your tux, oh my god, I’m going to cry _so_ hard.”

“Well, I’ll be able to see both of you before that happens, all dressed up, so I’ll cry before you guys _and_ cry twice.” 

Steve and Nancy curse half-heartedly at Jonathan. He can’t stop laughing.

Once Steve’s caught his breath, he sighs contently. “Can’t wait to marry you, Nance.”

“I can’t wait to marry you too,” Nancy says in that tender, quiet voice she adopts whenever Steve says something particularly sweet. Like she can’t believe he’s real. “Like Jonathan said, we have our own family now. Just us.”

“Just us,” Steve echoes.

From between them, Jonathan tenses.

“And Jonathan,” Nancy hastily adds. She tickles his stomach, looking pleased with the ungodly-high shriek of laughter that escapes him. “But you already knew that.”

And then Steve’s tickling Jonathan too, and Jonathan’s laughing so hard he could cry. 

“You’re both — both _such_ assholes — can’t believe I’m friends with you two.”

“Yes, you can!” Steve sits upright, using both hands to attack Jonathan. “You love us.”

Nancy scratches the bottom of Jonathan’s foot and he spasms. “Admit it.”

“I _love_ you!” He shouts it out, clenching every muscle in his body. They fall silent, something in their expressions shifting. For one beautiful moment, they stop tickling him, granting him the opportunity to strike.

There’s no way he can tickle Nancy because she’s, well, Nancy. So he launches out to Steve, tackling him to the floor and tickling him furiously. 

“That’s what you get!” Jonathan cries out, relishing in Steve’s pained laughter. “C’mon, Nance, join me.”

“ _No,”_ Steve rasps out, kicking the air uselessly. “I’m your fiancé!”

“Oh, honey.” Nancy sits on her knees, smiling at both men. She rolls her red sleeves up to her elbows before she bends and kisses Steve’s eyelid. “I’m gonna do this _because_ you’re my fiancé.” And she joins Jonathan, mercilessly poking her soon-to-be-husband.

.

.

.

It’s almost seven when Jonathan remembers.

“Oh shit.” He jumps to his feet, dashing towards the dining table. He fumbles with the coat and ends up dropping it. “My house! Our _party_!”

“Fuck,” Nancy curses. “We forgot.”

Fifteen minutes later, they show up at Jonathan and Kali’s home. 

“What’s taking them so long?” Steve says, a cloud of cold air forming as he speaks. He shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting impatiently on his feet.

“Maybe they fell asleep?” Jonathan doesn’t believe himself, though. He tries not to worry. Even _if_ something Upside Down related happened, Kali and Robin are strong. They can handle it.

Nancy’s mitten-covered hands knock against the door once more. “You think they’ll be pissed we’re so late?”

“I don’t think we’ll ever find out at this rate,” Jonathan says.

Steve pounds his fist against the door. “KALI? ROBIN? ARE YOU THERE, IT’S NANCY, JONATHAN, AND —”

The door opens so quickly Steve nearly falls back. Kali stands, flushed, out of breath, with a sheen of sweat across her forehead. “And Steve. Hey. Sorry about that, we had music playing and it was very loud and — and you’re all so late! Cannot believe you forgot about —”

“You didn't call,” Nancy points out. “Makes me think you forgot about us too.”

“Come inside, dorks,” Kali says in lieu of an actual response. Jonathan has a million questions, all of which he’ll ask later when it’s just him and Kali.

Steve runs inside with a cheer. “Happy Christmas Eve, everybody!”

.

.

.

“God, when did we get this old?” Kali laments. She and Jonathan are squeezed onto her bed, her head on her pillow while his are next to her feet. “It’s like, ten past one and everyone’s knocked out and I’m dead-tired.”

They put on _Home Alone_ after their throats grew sore from their Christmas karaoke. Within the first hour, Robin fell asleep, Steve twenty minutes later, and Nancy right in the last ten minutes. Kali and Jonathan draped them in a blanket and cleaned their house up.

“Me too.” Jonathan yawns, stretching his arms out. He inadvertently hits Kali’s ankle and winces, rubbing the skin apologetically. “And our friends are getting married. They could have kids soon.”

“Holy shit, dude.”

Jonathan slips his eyes shut as he pictures what a Harrington-Wheeler child would look like. Nancy’s blue eyes, Steve’s soft hair. Her pink lips, his moles. Their bravery, compassion, wit, and huge hearts. 

He almost bursts just thinking about it. He would love that kid with everything he has.

He thinks about earlier in the night, back at their place. Those terrible number of seconds when he thought they would tell him the five words he never thought he’d hear.

_We’re in love with you._

He’s such an idiot.

“Jonathan?” Kali sobers up, sitting in an upright position. “What’s wrong?”

“I ... I wanna talk about it. You remember back in September when —”

“Of course I do.” 

He swallows, scrambling to join her and sit up. They scoot backwards until their backs are to the wall. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“How about I tell you my thing? Maybe it’ll be easier if we both share something. And it’d be nice to tell you, I’ve wanted to for a while, but it’s ...”

“I get it.” He lays his hand over her knee, loosens when she grabs it and squeezes.

“Fuck, I don’t — can we do it after three? Say it at the same time?”

“That’s good. Let’s count?”

They look into each other’s eyes and begin. “One. Two. Three.”

“I’ve been in love with Robin for eight years and we’ve been sleeping on and off for three.”

“I’m in love with both Nancy and Steve and I — what?”

.

.

.

Jonathan goes first.

He talks for a long time, rambles until he’s sweating. His heartbeat steadies though he still stammers and trips over his words. But Kali’s patient and her silence help tremendously.

“So I’m screwed,” he concludes with a helpless, humourless laugh. “They’re getting married and I love them ... and they’re getting married but I love them.”

“I know you’re not gonna believe me. But I really think they feel the same way.”

He can’t afford to get his hopes up again. “Then why not say anything yet?”

“I don’t know but ... you three have always had this special connection. You’re not some third-wheel. I don’t — I don’t wanna push you and do something you wanna do and I get it, okay? I do. For what it’s worth, I think it’s possible to move on from this.”

“How?”

“I can’t tell you what that looks like. Just that it’s possible. It’s almost a new year. 1994! Open yourself up to new possibilities.”

Maybe, just maybe, this year will be kinder. The year he gets over his feelings for Nancy and Steve.

He kisses her forehead, smiling wetly into her hair. “You’re the best.”

She makes a pleased sound, leaning her cheek against his arm. “I know.”

“So.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder, eager to ask, “Your turn. You and Robin?”

.

.

.

The next night, Jonathan’s taking the trash out and finds Steve parking by the curb with Nancy in the passenger seat. He warms up instantly once he recognizes their car, jogging across the front lawn to meet them.

“Happy Christmas,” Nancy chirps. She kicks the door open, jumps out, and crashes into Jonathan. She hugs him tightly, kissing his cheek. 

He’s too stunned by their unexpected presence to even be surprised by the cheek-kiss, smiling dopily as he hugs her back. “Hey. What’re you guys doing here?”

Steve climbs out the driver’s seat with a snort. “Nice to see you too.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes as he walks around their car to shut Steve up with a hug. “I’m happy to see you both.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbles but Jonathan hears the smile in his voice. “Can’t stay for long but we got you something.”

Jonathan draws back, his hands clutching Steve’s shoulders. “What?”

“We know, that goes against our Secret Santa rules to only give one person a gift but you’re different.” Nancy smiles softly, brushing the snow out of her hair. She adjusts her baby blue hat over her head, pink nose wrinkling. “You know what we mean. Plus, you were there during our proposal.”

“So that means a gift?” Jonathan grins, twisting his boots in the snow mushed pavement. 

“‘Course,” Steve says. “You’re the first person I told about the proposal.”

“And the first person I told when I thought Steve was gonna propose,” Nancy adds. 

“Like Nance said, that’s special.”

“Gimme one sec,” Jonathan says, face hurting from how much he keeps smiling. “Gotta grab something from inside.”

Nancy frowns, leaning against the car. “Why?”

Jonathan walks backwards, his bare and numbing fingers stuffed into his pockets. “Because I got you guys something too!”

He dashes inside and almost knocks into Will.

“Hey!” Will says brightly, a plate of cookies in his hands. “You free to talk now?”

“Give me one sec, okay? Nancy and Steve are here and I’m gonna give them their gift.”

“Weren’t you Robin’s Secret Santa?”

“Yup.”

“And wasn’t Kali yours?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” Will gives him a pointed look as he bites into a cookie. “Nothing. We’ll talk soon!”

Jonathan flashes him a smile before he locates the gift bag from the coat-rack. He races out the door and nearly slips on the ice covering his driveway in the process. “Oh my god.”

“My offer to teach you how to ice-skate is still on the table,” Nancy says with a laugh.

“Seriously, she’s a good teacher.” Steve loops his arm around her, placing a kiss to the side of her head. “Though she gives good incentives.”

Nancy elbows him as the two walk towards Jonathan. “Don’t know how motivating my kisses would be for you, but.”

Jonathan sometimes thinks being in love with them would be easier if they didn’t say shit like this.

“I couldn’t help but get you guys something,” he says, lifting his gift bag. “For the young engaged couple, you know. That’s ... that’s all.”

Steve raises a red and green polka-dotted bag from behind Nancy. “Here’s yours.”

“It’s just a little something,” Nancy says, almost shy. 

They swap bags. Jonathan tips his head at them, gestures for them to open it.

Nancy lifts the newspaper clippings, smiling already. “You used my articles?”

“Seemed fitting.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow as he lifts what’s technically part two of the gift. A thick photo album designed for weddings. “Oh. This is ... oh.”

“It’s not just for your wedding, I mean — if you guys wanna document the planning process in the next six months or your time after. It’s like a lifetime kinda thing, tracking your journey as a couple. There are also a few pages for your time spent dating.”

“Jonathan,” Nancy says, dazed and confused, “that’s so —”

“Wait.” Steve rifles through the bag. “There’s more.”

Jonathan’s heart gets stuck in his throat. He swings his arms back and forth before he remembers he has a gift of his own and it would be incredibly sad and _stupid_ if he broke it within minutes of receiving it. “I figured I ought to return the favour. It’s not the same camera like the ones you guys gave me that Christmas a million years ago and it didn’t cost nearly the same, but —”

“It’s perfect.” Nancy looks up from the camera, held in both her and Steve’s grasp, and looks at Jonathan with so much fondness he doesn’t know what to do. “Our gift is terrible.”

“What? No, it’s —”

Steve snatches the bag out of Jonathan’s hands. “We need to get you something — something _better._ Trust us, okay? You’ll get something new soon. It’s the right call.”

“We’re sorry, we just want it to be perfect for you too.”

“Anything you guys give me would mean so much,” Jonathan says seriously, half-frowning. A snowflake falls onto his forehead. He looks up, finds a slow and light snowfall beginning around them. His socks begin to dampen. The streetlight across the street flickers. He opens his palm, catches a snowfall, and lets it melt on his skin. “You know that, right?”

“We do,” Steve says. “But we want to give you something that would mean everything. This isn’t everything. Not yet. We’ll figure it out. Sorry for —”

“No. You have nothing to be sorry for. You thought of me and you escaped Christmas night from the Wheelers just to see me.”

“Climbed right out of my childhood room’s window,” Nancy explains with a smirk. “Just like old times.”

Jonathan chuckles. “I should head inside, but we’ll talk soon, yeah? Get home safe. Thanks for everything.”

“We didn’t even give you your gift,” Steve says.

“Don’t care. I’m just happy to see you both.” And before he can overthink it, he throws his arms around them and hugs them. They hug him back instantly, the gift bag poking his back in the process. The snowfall gets heavier, the night colder. Not one of them seems to mind.

.

.

.

When Jonathan finally steps back inside, skin flushed and freezing, the house is strangely quiet. It has Jonathan’s heart pounding as he runs into the kitchen where Will drops marshmallows into two nearly-brimming mugs.

“Where is everybody?”

Will looks confused, but only for a moment at Jonathan’s panic. “Kali’s in the shower. Mom and Hop fell asleep on the couch. Good timing, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan sighs out of relief, unzipping his jacket. He winces at the sharp stiffness in his body, the worst part his ears that sting when he touches them.

“You were out in the cold for some time, huh?”

“Not too long.” Jonathan drapes his jacket over the end of the counter, shaking the wet snow out of his hair. “What do you mean?”

“What?”

“You said it knowingly. Like there’s something else you mean.” Jonathan raises his eyebrows. He moves towards the sink and runs his fingers under warm water. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Will says, still after all these years, unable to lie to his older brother. “Excited about the wedding, Mr. Best Man?”

Jonathan chuckles, turning the faucet off. “Of course. I have the big responsibility of the best man and writing a speech.”

“Try not to cry.”

“Highly doubt that I’ll be able to stop that but I’ll try anyway.” 

“Whatever you say, it’ll be perfect.” Will pushes the second mug across the counter and towards Jonathan. “You always say the right thing.”

Jonathan mulls this over as he dries his hands on his sweater, quietly thanking Will for the hot cocoa. He’s never considered himself to be well-spoken or anything like that. Sure, he gives his patented pep-talks and tells his loved ones he loves them. Mostly. With just one (two?) glaring exceptions. He kind of wants to ask Will if not saying anything at all is still him saying the right thing and if his silence counts, but he can’t bring himself to explain what it’s about or ask his brother if not speaking up about your love still counts as bravery or is just what he fears — cowardice.

“Thanks, bud,” he settles on, carefully picking up the hot mug. He sips, the burning liquid soothing his throat, and stares expectantly at Will. “So? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great!” Will doesn’t touch his mug. He’s completely facing Jonathan and swaying his arms back and forth, a widening smile on his face. “To clear things up, uh, well. Mike and I are together now!”

Jonathan’s known that Will was gay for many years now. Will had been in his junior year of high school, Jonathan in his second year of college, and Jonathan had come home for a visit. He can’t remember much of the day or how they ended up playing catch in Jonathan’s bedroom. Some kind of joke about how Lonnie never played that with them and that’s why both boys were terrible in Phys-Ed. It prompted them to find a baseball that of course belonged to neither of them but Hopper instead.

They tossed the ball back and forth until Will, as he threw it to Jonathan, blurted out, “I like boys.”

Too stunned to do anything except let the ball hit his forehead, Jonathan fell over. Will yelped and ran over and tended to him. As soon as Jonathan could muster enough energy to speak, he said, “Me too!”

He knew, at that point, that he had feelings for both Nancy and Steve. He thought it would somehow pass (as if anyone could ever just stop loving those two) but knew that the part of him that was capable of loving them both wouldn’t.

Getting to share that with his brother, the relief that bloomed within both of them, the strength in which they embraced each other — he won’t ever forget it.

“Really!?” Jonathan hastily sets his mug down and pulls Will into a half-hug. “That’s amazing, I’m so — hold on, okay, wait, how did _Hop_ know then?”

“I told him and mom when they came up two weeks ago to visit. I would’ve told you first, it’s just, they were there first and honestly, it’s still a recent thing, we only get together at the end of November so —”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m happy for you! I’m assuming the rest of your friends know?”

“Yup. Mike’s gonna tell Nancy, probably before we leave. I’m assuming Nancy will tell you when she finds out.”

Jonathan cracks a smile. “Probably.”

.

.

.

“ _Our brothers are in love_!”

It comes a week later, a few days into January. Jonathan has just walked into their break-room, amused by how Nancy whisper-shouts. She shoves a forkful of her pasta salad into her mouth before she stands, vibrating with excitement.

“Mike told you?”

“Yes! Little shit told us five minutes before he left.”

“Us? So you, Holly —”

“And mom. She was really cool with it, which, yeah, I don’t think Mike was expecting it either.” Nancy chuckles, the noise humourless. She plays with the lace of her blouse, staring absently at her ring. “She said something else, too, right after Mike left. She called your mom and I didn’t even mean to listen to the phone call, I was just getting something to drink, and, well —”

Jonathan’s stomach flips, cresting with a wave of nausea. He walks to their desk and lowers his lunch container. “What is it?”

“She said to your mom that she always thought their kids would get together. Just never expected it to be those two.” She attempts a smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. “I didn’t tell Steve. I don’t know, it didn’t feel like my mom was saying it should’ve been you over him, but ...”

“But,” Jonathan agrees glumly. He sits, something in him shifting. He thinks about his and Kali’s conversation on Christmas Eve when they’d both shared their romantic lives. Well, Kali had shared hers while Jonathan revealed his lack of one. Kali expressed her distress over not knowing where she and Robin stood. They’d been sleeping together on and off for the past three years, a fact that Jonathan couldn’t believe until he asked if that’s what they were doing before they’d arrived at the house on Christmas Eve. She didn’t answer. Her apologetic smile said enough. 

She told him the lines between friendship and not had blurred so badly that she didn’t know what they were. All she knew was that she wanted everything. Jonathan had told her the only thing she could do is talk to Robin. Kali promised she would but that she’d take some time to figure out if that’s what she really wanted.

“To take a risk and lose her down the road or make a call to preserve our friendship now,” Kali had said.

Meanwhile, Jonathan vowed he would do _something_ to make all of this easier on him. 

“You’re all so close,” Kali told him. “You were there for the proposal, your families are tight-knit, you see Nancy every day at work, go for coffee and walks with Steve every week, and you’re together almost all the time. Plus, I thought you and Steve were screwing when I first met you —”

“ _What_?” 

“Don’t interrupt me! My point is maybe setting some boundaries, taking a step back, maybe that could help.”

He considers her words now, especially as he takes in Karen’s words. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he says, feeling the strike each word sends to his heart. “You and Steve, you’re perfect together. Your mom’s just still in the process of letting go of the ridiculous idea of, well. You and me.”

“Ridiculous,” Nancy repeats. She uncaps then uncaps her blue reusable water bottle repeatedly, their desk rattling with what must be her knee bouncing underneath it. “Exactly. So, uh. What do you think will happen in tonight’s X-Files episode with —”

“I should, uh, get to work, actually. I have to sort through a ton of photos by one so I'll probably end up eating and taking my actual break later. ‘S that okay?”

“Yeah! Of course. Uh, I’ll — I’ll chew quieter.”

“Chew as loud as you want. I’ll, um, get to work.” He opens his bottom drawer, pulls out a file, and opens it up on his side of the desk. He doesn’t like this, not speaking to her when she’s right there, but what choice does he have?

.

.

.

January drags. It’s cold and dark and full of work.

“You coming?”

Jonathan lifts his head from the dozens of photos sprawled out on the floor in front of him. “Can’t. Work stuff.”

“But it’s Friday.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t think —” Kali pauses, walking out of the hallway. She plops right in front of Jonathan, invading his line of vision. She has her coat on, thick, black, and puffy, and an orange scarf wrapped around her neck that Jonathan thinks belongs to Robin. “I didn’t think that you stepping back would mean you’d take all the possible steps back.”

“What do you want me to say?” He clutches the back of his neck, exhausted by everything. The short days. The snow. The way every fibre of him misses his friends after only two weeks of deciding to get more space. He doesn’t know if he’s making the right call but at least he’s _making_ a call. “I don’t know what else to do, Kali, I just want to do what’s right.”

“And this is that?”

He slumps back against the sofa, head lolled back against the cushion. “No idea. But I have to find out. Speaking of, have you found out yet? How you feel? What you want?”

Kali curls her fingers into the ends of her scarf. “No.”

“You’re gonna get there.”

“So will you.”

“Just ... tell them I had a lot to do, that I’m sorry for missing out.”

“Nance’s gonna wonder why you didn’t just tell her at work. Steve’s gonna wonder why you didn’t call.”

“I can’t do anything about that,” he says, voice breaking.

“Okay.” She scoots around the photographs until she’s knee-to-knee with him. “We’ll miss you.”

His heart pangs. He squeezes her knee gently, says, “I’ll miss you guys too,” and aches with how much he will.

.

.

.

In mid-February, Jonathan arrives back to his home after lunch with Joyce and Hop. He’d brought Bowie with him and left him back at his parents’ place, as he does every so often just so they can play with Bowie.

Finding Steve sitting at the front steps of his house feels like a punch to his gut that he doesn’t understand.

“ _Steve,”_ Jonathan nearly trips over himself in a haste to step out of his car. He closes the car door and runs the short distance between himself and Steve. “It’s freezing! Why didn’t you use your key?”

Steve shrugs. He’s sitting with his legs spread out, his backpack resting between them. “Didn’t wanna come in unannounced.”

“But you are here. Unannounced.”

“But I’m not _in_ unannounced.” Steve has a hoodie but he doesn’t have it pulled over his head. The snow is a light drizzle, but his hair is covered with snowflakes. He looks beautiful. Pink skin, tentative smile, clear eyes. It’d make for a gorgeous picture. 

Jonathan clears his throat, tearing himself away from his thoughts. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. There’s just some, er, best man stuff I was hoping we could do. Is that cool?”

Jonathan lets them both in. Before he does anything, including removing his jacket, he sets the kettle on. He has no idea how long Steve’s been out there but Steve looks freezing. He also grabs a blanket from his bedroom and brings it back to the living room. “Sit. Take this.”

“Mm, bossy pants.” But Steve doesn’t put up a fight. He drapes himself over the sofa, snuggling underneath the blanket. He looks so soft and it pains Jonathan to look at him, so he’s almost relieved to leave as soon as he’d arrived, heading back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, they warm up with mugs of tea. Jonathan ignores Steve’s protests, cozying himself on the floor with his head right beneath Steve’s hip. Next to him is Steve’s backpack.

“So, what’s up?” 

“Seating charts.” Steve rolls over and rifles through his backpack. His hip presses against Jonathan’s back. Jonathan tries very hard to stay still, breath stuttering as Steve’s breath ghosts along Jonathan’s shoulder. “Karen’s a Saint, but she’s also giving Nance ulcers. It’s mostly done but we’re just a little stuck.”

They pore over the charts and guest list. It takes a little while, plus some playful arguing, but they get it done.

“Whew, thanks, Johnny.” Steve extends his arm and they high-five. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“What’s a best man for?”

“You’re the _bestest_ man. No. The best best man. That sounds better right?”

“Sounds like the best compliment I could ever receive.”

Steve smiles, seemingly pleased by that. He swings his legs, careful to avoid hitting Jonathan and sits upright. He vigorously pats the spot next to him. “Come up here.”

Jonathan obliges, knees cracking as he joins Steve up on the couch. 

“Four more months.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says, trying to muster up the same excitement as Steve. He hates himself for not being able to put aside his dumb feelings, to just be unconditionally happy for them. He _is_ happy. But he’s also not. And that’s the problem. “It’s gonna be a magical night. I’m so excited.”

Jonathan already knows something is bugging Steve before he says anything. Steve’s legs are bouncing, he’s got his lower lip worried between his teeth, and his light doesn’t shine as blindingly as it usually does. 

“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asks, rubbing his hand over Steve’s knee.

“I just. You know nothing’s gonna change between us, right?”

Jonathan could laugh himself to tears with how much he already knows that.

“You’re still my best friend,” Steve reassures, but he sounds panicked, his words coming out in a big rush. “You have to know that —”

“Hey.” Jonathan lays his hand over Steve’s shoulder, forcing Steve to quiet and look at him. “I know. Don’t worry, okay? We’ll be fine. I know it. We’ve come this far, haven’t we? We survived hating and punching each other and The Upside Down and those rats and that fucking _mall_. What’s a beautiful marriage between two of my favourite people?” 

“It’s nothing,” Steve says, his eyes misty. It makes Jonathan want to cry too, strange tears of happiness that the _idea_ of them drifting apart could bring Steve to tears. “You — you promise?”

“We can do a blood oath and everything. Then you can get the matching scar!”

“That’s a great idea!”

“What? No! I’m joking!”

.

.

.

He’s still determined to see his plan through but they’re his best friends and he doesn’t want _that_ part to change.

Late March finds him in their home on a Saturday afternoon, just the three of them. He’s been trying to hang out with them only when other people are around. But Kali has a shift at the library. Robin’s got plans with her parents. And Jonathan’s only so strong.

“I say we should do something very stupid,” Steve says.

“You never openly admit that your ideas are stupid,” Nancy says with a faux-gasp of shock. “Is this growth?”

Jonathan hides his laugh behind her shoulder.

Standing in front of them, his hands clasped, Steve gives them flat looks. “Rude. You’re not hearing my idea anymore.”

“Aw, babe.” Nancy laughs, hopping off of her sofa. She rises on her tiptoes, cups Steve’s face, and looks him firmly in the eyes. “Tell us your stupid idea.”

Steve tries to glare but his expression is too soft. He nudges her nose with his, letting out a sigh of contentment when Nancy kisses his chin, and — okay, you see, _this_ is why Jonathan’s tried to stay away. 

He squirms, staring at his sock instead of them.

“I didn’t say the idea was stupid,” Steve says. “Just that the thing we’re doing is — okay, this is pointless. You should dance down the aisle or something! Or we should do a handshake when we meet at the aisle.”

“A handshake would be pretty sweet,” Jonathan says.

And so they spend the next twenty minutes making a handshake. It becomes too elaborate for Jonathan to keep up with but it’s endearing how much fun Nancy and Steve have with it — they’re such kids, still.

“You can’t touch my butt in front of everyone we know,” Steve says, but his flustered smile shows he likes it.

Nancy pointedly eyes his butt. “But it’s a nice butt. And it would be a _great_ part of our handshake. Don’t you think Jonathan?”

Jonathan flicks his gaze down at them. He’s laying across their sofa, feet kicked up, and dear god, he has no idea how to respond to this. 

“What would your mother think?” Jonathan asks.

“Exactly! Nance, your mom already thinks I’m a disaster. She’s going to insist you divorce me before we even get married,” Steve whines.

“Okay, okay, I won’t touch your butt.”

“You _can_ touch my butt, just not during the ceremony.”

“So like. During the reception?”

Steve grins, slow and sappy. He spreads his legs jokingly, patting the space in between them. “All yours.”

“Not that I don’t support your sex life,” Jonathan says, already off to a tremendously terrible start, “but please don’t start making out. The last time that happened, you were just engaged, so totally okay, but now is a bit different.” 

Nancy crawls in between Steve’s legs, and Jonathan groans, cursing his life. But she just settles on Steve, sitting with her back curved into his chest. “We don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” she says. “If we do, you know you can tell us, right?”

Jonathan smiles, strangely touched. “I know.”

Steve reaches up and drums his fingers along Jonathan’s thigh. “How’s the best man speech coming up?”

Jonathan groans again, hiding his face behind his hands. “Awfully. I’ve written four drafts and it’s all terrible.” He peeks out through the gap between his fingers and sees Nancy’s head tilt.

“How come?” 

How do you say _because I’m in love with you both and holy shit does it show in every word I write_ without actually saying it?

Luckily, Steve answers for Jonathan. “Because he wants it to be perfect and he’s beating himself up over it. Dude, just speak from the heart. Whatever you gotta say, it’ll be more than perfect. And it’ll totally make Nance cry.”

Nancy cranes her head around and nips at Steve’s shoulder. “It’ll make Steve cry harder.”

“Speak from the heart,” Jonathan repeats, dropping his hands from his face. Speaking from his heart is _exactly_ his problem.

“Yeah, man. Ramble about how much you love us,” Steve says, and it’s meant to be teasing, but Jonathan’s stupid heart can’t discern the difference.

Nancy nods along to Steve’s words, joining their hands and swinging them aimlessly. “I can proofread it for you.”

“You’re not _reading_ my speech before you get to hear it,” Jonathan says. “Don’t care how many drafts I’ll need. I’m gonna say the right thing and both of you will be sobbing.”

“Ain’t that sweet, Nance?” Steve beams, clapping his and Nancy’s enjoined hands together. “He’s gonna make us cry!”

Jonathan has _no_ idea how he’ll piece together a speech both genuine and lacking any indication of how deep his feelings go. But it’s for them so he’ll figure it out.

“I cannot wait,” Nancy says, smiling brilliantly at Jonathan. “Okay, we have _one_ more wedding thing on the list.” There’s an actual list on the coffee table in Nancy’s neat scrawl, written with pink and black pens. “The song that’ll play at our first dance.”

“Do we have to decide now?” Steve sighs.

“Yes! We need to decide as much as possible early on so when we get closer to the date and things go wrong, we won’t have to worry about the little stuff. Trust me.”

“So, what’re the options?” Jonathan stands and stretches his legs, his entire body stiff from laying around their house all day.

“I have another list,” Nancy admits, sheepish.

.

.

.

Thirty-six songs.

They listen to all thirty-six songs on the list.

“We are not dancing to _Time After Time_ ,” Steve vetoes as soon as the first note plays.

Nancy squawks. She snaps her hands away from his shoulders and backs up. “How dare you!”

“Next,” Jonathan calls out before they can argue about each other’s music tastes. It’s shocking that this argument doesn’t involve Jonathan. Honestly, he likes all of their choices. Yes, he’s surprised too. He knows why each of them chose what they did. For Nancy, _Time After Time_ , he knows that this line — _if you're lost you can look and you will find me_ — makes her think of Steve, how even in the mess of life, he makes her feel found. (She told him once. Christmas Eve of ‘91. She was drunk, everyone else had passed out, the song came up, and she insisted that Jonathan dance with her. He couldn’t refuse even if he wanted to.)

But he gets why they’re both so picky about it. Even if they’ve been doing this for over an hour, Nancy and Steve swaying, Jonathan manning the mixtape. 

He plays the next song. 

“No way!” Nancy says. “I love _I Will Always Love You_ but it’s too ... cinematic. We need something slower. Softer.”

“How about,” Jonathan starts then stops. 

Across the room, Nancy and Steve disentangle, casting curious looks at Jonathan. 

“Yeah?” Steve says. 

“Nothing. Well. I mean, if you want slow and soft but also well-known and about the beauties of love, why not go classic? _Can’t Help Falling In Love_?” Jonathan can pinpoint the moment the light-bulbs go off in both of their heads. Nancy and Steve spin back around to face each other. She’s the first one to start jumping.

“It’s perfect! I put it down on the list, think it’s at the very end of the mixtape, but it didn’t click how perfect it would be!”

“Nance! That’s our song!” 

“We did it!”

“We did!”

Jonathan laughs, watching them both jump up and down and squeal. He skips through the mix-tape until it lands on the final song.

_Wise men say ..._

“Jonathan,” Steve says softly. “Aw, dude. C’mere.”

Nancy beckons him too, gesturing for him to join them. 

He can’t _agree_ to dance with them to their _wedding song_ that so aptly describes his life right now it would be funny if it weren’t terrible. 

But you try saying no to Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington. It’s impossible.

Jonathan would know.

He’s red all over but he joins them, barely having a second to _think_ before Nancy’s arm slings across his back and Steve’s hand settles on his waist. And it’s easy, natural, just right to do the same.

As they sway, giggling to each other, chests close, heads bowed together, Jonathan has two pressing thoughts as his heart lights him up from the inside.

_I’m so fucked._

_I can’t keep doing this._

_._

_._

_._

He starts by taking his lunch breaks later than Nancy.

Then by working later so he and Steve won’t have time for their coffee-runs and proceeding walks.

He doesn’t immediately bail on Fridays. He skips one every other week, easing his way into it. 

He doesn’t feel good about any of this. But he doesn’t know what else to do.

.

.

.

He knocks twice on Nancy and Steve’s door. He raises his fist to do it a third time but the door opens before he can.

“Started to think you forgot where we live.” Nancy doesn’t leave any room in her tone for teasing. She leans against the doorframe, hip jutted out so he can’t step in. 

“I’ve been busy,” Jonathan says defensively. He hates himself for the lie, but it’s better than the truth: “I didn’t mean to be so distant. I’m sorry.”

Nancy softens. She steps back, gesturing for him to enter. “Don’t be. I just ... well, I miss you. So does Steve.”

“I miss you guys too,” he says, and it hurts just how much he means it. “With work and everything ...”

“Yeah, no, I get it. I don’t want to make you feel bad about taking time for yourself.”

“Still. You know that —” God, he’s such a dick. “ — it’s not on purpose, right?”

Nancy smiles tightly. “’ Course.”

Before he can drown in his guilt, Steve races into a view. He hugs Nancy from behind, smacking a loud kiss against the nape of her neck and earning a giggle and a kiss of his own pressed to his knuckles.

Despite everything, Jonathan smiles. Seeing them like this still aches, he doesn’t think that’ll ever change, but it still softens him.

“Johnny,” Steve greets brightly. “We miss you!”

“Yeah? I’ve missed you too.” He clears his throat and swings his keys around his forefinger. “Ready to go taste-testing?”

.

.

.

“Dunno what to tell you, Nance.” Steve leans back in his chair, wiping his cheeks with his napkin. “I liked everything.”

Nancy licks a bit of frosting off her finger. “Me too. We’re fucked.”

“Can’t your dad buy all of this?” Jonathan says through another mouthful of a red velvet cupcake. “Make him pay. Literally.”

Steve’s eyes widen, his mouth hanging open with his spoon of cake still in it. “Yes! Perfect. Let’s get all of this and if we have leftovers at the wedding, we can take it all home!”

“Or give it to our guests,” Nancy suggests.

“Yeah, sure, we can think about doing that too.”

Jonathan chuckles, stuffing the rest of the cupcake into his mouth. They have their own little booth in the back of this pastry shop, soft music in the background, and a little bit of every dessert imaginable scattered around them.

“Oh, you have a little ...” Nancy smiles shyly before she reaches up and wipes the corner of Jonathan’s mouth.

Jonathan freezes. His eyes dart to Steve who’s watching them, not a flick of jealousy on his face. It’s been years since their teenage bullshit fights but Jonathan doesn’t ever want Steve to think he has to worry about Jonathan or for Nancy to feel like she has to choose even though Jonathan isn’t an option. 

He manages a smile, the skin where she’d touched still tingling long after she removes the frosting he’d had. Steve tries a slice of carrot cake. Nancy folds the napkin and sets it over their stack of used plates. The song changes, something slower and a little sad.

How apt.

.

.

.

They finish taste-testing shortly but don’t go home right away.

Steve asks if they can go for a drive, just the three of them, the windows rolled down, music blaring.

“You can even choose!” Steve adds, reaching over from the driver’s seat to pat Jonathan’s knee.

Nancy shifts, hugging the back of her seat as she looks at Jonathan. “What do you say?”

How can he say no to that?

So they drive around and he chooses the music and they don’t tease him for it just this once and he thinks about how he can’t keep letting this happen but also how ... different it is. 

It’s like Nancy and Steve are as tense as Jonathan feels. Long pauses between conversations, small-talk that doesn’t naturally delve into their easy banter like usual, and, what has to be the strangest —

“I know you’ve said no to this before but pretty please, can I set you up with someone?” Nancy asks.

Jonathan’s head is half out the window. Wind rustles his hair, cools him down, louder than the Joy Division song playing. It’s just gotten dark out. If he squints, he can spot a couple of stars, the moon a crescent hanging in the sky. Nancy’s question shouldn’t sting but it does.

“Sure,” Jonathan says.

“Oh.” Steve’s shoulders become rigid as he slows down at a stop sign. “Really?”

“Sure.”

“You’ve never agreed before.”

“And now I am.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Even Nancy, who’d asked him in the first place, sounds shocked. “I didn’t think you’d say yes. What changed?”

Jonathan shrugs, playing with the button of his t-shirt. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

Nancy sinks in her seat. Her voice is low, nearly getting caught up in the music, but he hears her anyway. “I guess so.”

.

.

.

“Steve came by,” Kali says in lieu of a greeting.

Jonathan joins her in the kitchen, loosening his work-tie. “Where’s he now?”

Kali closes the fridge with her hip, peeling a banana with her hands. “Went back home. Nance called _right_ after Steve left. Asked if you went on your walk with Steve. When I told her no, she told me that she’s worried about you.”

Jonathan swallows past the lump in his throat. He sits next to Kali on the kitchen counter, hanging his head low to keep from hitting the top cabinet. “What’d you tell her?”

“That I was too. You said you wouldn’t —”

“I know, okay, but things changed. I realized that there’s no way I could ever _stop_ feeling what I feel. I have no other choice.”

“Bullshit,” Kali says blithely. “There’s always a choice.”

Jonathan’s jaw clenches. “Really? So tell me what’s up with you and Robin?”

“That’s different —”

“How?”

“Don’t take your shit out on me. I’m just trying to help.”

“Are you? Because all I feel is _worse_ about the decisions I’m making. If I’m wrong then what’s the right thing to do?”

“Not fuck over your friends and disappear. That isn’t fair.”

“How is it any fairer than what I was doing before? Spending every second with him, falling deeper and deeper? How would they feel, knowing how _I_ felt? They don’t know, okay, they don’t know any of it. They don’t know that I like ... that I like boys.”

“They wouldn’t see you any differently,” Kali insists, firm but gentle. “They love you.”

“Not the way I love them.”

“But you’re each other’s best friends. It’s not _fair_ that you feel like you have to give them up.”

“I don’t _feel_ anything! I know that’s what I have to do. Why are you giving me shit for it?”

“I’m not. I want to make sure you’re doing the right thing.”

“Are you?”

Kali bristles. She leaps off of the counter only to face Jonathan and dig her finger into his chest. “This has nothing to do with Robin.”

“ _How_? If we’re gonna talk about how I’m handling things, then why can’t we talk about —”

“You’re not handling anything! You’re _running_. You’re not a coward, Jonathan.”

“Except I am,” Jonathan bites out. 

“Fine. Fuck up your friendships. Dinner’s in the fridge.” Kali storms off, rushing into her bedroom. There’s no door slam. Somehow, that’s even worse.

Pressure builds behind his eyes but the tears never come. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms, and wishes he could reach back into his throat and take the words out. He doesn’t like this. His indignation, arguing with Kali, throwing Robin into her face, and how he had begun to yell. He knows, logically, he isn’t Lonnie. He’s a better man than his father but that’s not a difficult feat. Sometimes he thinks that he can try as hard as he wants. Continue staying sober. Never raise his hands or voice. Never say a cruel word. 

But eventually, his genes will doom him. Lonnie couldn’t have been born a shitty person. Neither was Jonathan.

He lowers himself off the counter. Lumbers over to their sofa. Just. Falls face-first onto it. And falls asleep.

.

.

.

When he wakes up, it’s dark outside. Everything feels fuzzy. Dried drool decorates his chin, his arm. Stiffness has spread all over his back. He has a crick in his neck. 

For one blissful second, he doesn’t remember.

And then he does.

His argument with Kali smacks him in the face. His stomach lurches violently as he’s struck with intense shame. He’s such a dick. 

About five minutes later, he knocks twice at her door. “Kali?” 

Silence.

He tries again. “I want to apologize.”

More silence.

“Kali, please, I owe you a —” He falls quiet at the abrupt and heavy footsteps approaching him. It sounds like she’s stomping. Oh no.

She opens the door, revealing her messy hair, the bags underneath her eyes, and a blanket twisted around her. “I was asleep.”

“My bad, I’ll just leave, I’m so —”

She yanks him inside by the elbow and he’s so relieved he could cry. They lay side-by-side on her bed, his head against her shoulder. For a few moments, that’s all they do — breathe in and out and stare at her ceiling fan as it spins around.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I am too. I just ... I want you to be happy.”

“I am.”

“Not as happy as you could be?”

“Yeah.”

“Complete, unquestionable happiness. That’s what I want for you. ”

“I want that for you too.” He rolls over, drapes his arm over her stomach. “I’m sorry for bringing up Robin like that. That wasn’t cool.”

She nestles his head. Some of her hair falls onto his forehead so she pushes it out the way. “It’s okay. You’re right. I keep telling myself I need more time but the truth is that I know how I feel. I’m just scared.”

“Of?”

“What you’re scared of. Her not feeling the same.”

“I don’t mean to invalidate your experience but like. Our situations are a _little_ different. You’ve had sex repeatedly for the past three years. I accidentally walked in on Steve taking a piss one time and that same day, Nance caught me taking one too. Their bathroom lock was broken.”

“I _know,_ I’m sorry, I don’t want to dismiss you either, but ... part of me thinks well, if she felt the same, wouldn’t we already be together now?”

“What if she thinks that too?”

“That’s very wise,” Kali says. “But you have to know the same applies to you.”

“It’s different! They’re _together,_ they have to know I wouldn’t tell them when they’re a thing —”

“Maybe they’re as dumb as you are.” 

“Coming from the girl who thinks the person she’s in love with doesn’t feel the same way despite how often you’ve slept together?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t dumb too. Because I totally fucking am. It’s just ... I know Nancy and Steve. I’ve always felt like things were different with you three, like, _charged_. There’s always been this electricity. And the way I see it, I feel like, they know how they feel and they know how each other feels but they don’t think you feel the same way. There could be shame there. Loving another guy, loving _two_. I really think they’re doing what they think is best. That’s all any of us are doing, Jonathan. Doesn’t mean it’s the right thing but it’s hard to know what that is until it’s too late.”

“Do you think it’s too late for us then?”

She tilts his head back. Her crooked half-smile aimed down at him is tender. “No. Do you think it’s too late for —”

“Absolutely not. Robin’s in love with you. And she’ll be ready when you are.” A lump forms in his throat. He returns her smile. “I want it for you too. Complete, unquestionable happiness. And I think it’s _right_ there. You just gotta stretch for it.”

“Stretch for it,” she repeats with a faint chuckle. “I like the sound of that. You know, I ... I’m about to get sappy for a second so don’t make fun of me for it.”

“I would never.”

“When I came to Hawkins to be closer to Jane, I also wanted a place to just settle. A home. Somewhere I could stay for a while and plant my roots. I was happy to be close to her. I didn’t want for much. But then, over the years, I got it. I got two parents, and a full family, and best friends, and _you._ I got a home. I got a life that’s all mine. I never thought I’d have all of this, you know?”

His eyes prick. He holds her closer, knowing exactly what she means. They fall asleep like that, his overwhelming gratitude that Kali Prasad is in his life the last thing he remembers. 

.

.

.

Jonathan keeps his space. He just needs time to think, to _breathe_. 

They’re still talking. After all, he’s still Steve’s best man. But he limits his time spent with Nancy at work. Cuts out his walks with Steve entirely. Sticks to every other Friday get-togethers, extra cautious to only spend time with them when other people, usually Kali and Robin, are around.

It’s not like Nancy or Steve comment on it. It shouldn’t hurt because Jonathan’s doing it to himself. His dumb fucking heart doesn’t care.

April bleeds into May. The days get longer and warmer. Jonathan always forgets how good the evening sun feels, how late sunsets make him feel connected to the rest of the world. He goes on morning walks with Bowie. The number of layers he dons dwindles until he officially ditches his thin coat. Most nights, he and Kali set up two lawn-chairs in their backyards, play some music, cuddle up with Bowie, and count stars. 

It gets a little easier. But each day is one closer to the wedding and he can’t help but feel like his actions will catch up to him.

.

.

.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Jonathan wakes with a start. His blinds have been opened, morning sunlight shoved into his face. He groans, pressing a pillow into his face, but someone grabs it away. He hides underneath his blanket instead. “ _What_.”

“Look at me!”

“No.”

“Oh my god.”

And then this person’s tearing his blanket off of him.

“Can you just rob my house in peace —”

“Will you open your fucking eyes?”

He reluctantly opens his eyes and half-frowns to find Robin hovering above him. She looks _pissed,_ her eyes wide, jaw set, hands clenched around his blanket. 

“Why are you yelling at me?” he asks wearily, rubbing his eyes.

“Because you need to be yelled at.”

“Thank you.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Robin, can you just —”

“You know I love you, right?”

This feels like a trap. He sits up, scooting back to put some distance between himself and Robin, who has perched herself next to his knees. “I do. I love you too.”

“So be straight with me,” she says. “Why are you not talking to Nancy and Steve?”

And he’s officially awake. 

“Robin, can we get some coffee first? Let me brush my teeth at least.”

“Nope.” And then she’s laying over him, her back over his torso, legs hanging over the edge of his bed. “Talk. Now.”

Jonathan resigns himself to his fate. He glances at his alarm clock. “It’s eight am on a Sunday. Come on. Coffee.”

“Nope. Talk.”

“You could’ve come over in the evening.”

“I could’ve. I didn’t.”

“You could’ve asked Kali.”

“She wouldn’t tell me.”

“You really wanna know?”

“Obviously, that’s why I’m —”

“I’m in love with them both.”

Robin’s face falls. All the annoyance in her face smooths over. She awkwardly rolls herself off of him but doesn’t get up from his bed. Elbows propped up on his sheets, she says in a small voice, “ _Both_?”

Despite how hopeless he is, her incredulity makes him laugh. “Yes. I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re just — both? Really?”

“Yup. You see the issue.”

“Fuck. I didn’t ... I mean, I figured Steve had a thing for you —”

“What —”

“And Nance told me she liked you in high school but —”

“ _She what_ —”

“Huh.”

“Hold on.” Jonathan’s mind reels. A light, tingling sensation starts from his fingertips and spreads throughout the rest of his body. “What?”

Robin pulls the blanket back over him. Her mouth isn’t smiling but her eyes are. “You have to know that they’re impossibly in love with you. They’ve never said it to me but they don’t have to.”

None of this — the morning light no longer feeling harsh on his face, Robin laying next to him, the weight of what she’s just told him — feels real. He combs through his hair, needing to feel something solid to ground him. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be nice about it.”

“Am I really that kind of person?”

He laughs, feeling lighter than he’s felt in a long, long time. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just promise me you’ll do something, okay? I’m not saying what but just doing something. You can run backwards but there’s only so far you can go. And I don’t want you throwing away something really, really good.”

He’s overcome with an adoration for Robin that’s so intense, he has to keep himself from hugging her. He hasn’t brushed his teeth or showered yet and she shouldn’t suffer because of it. “Can I return the sentiment then?”

Her eyebrows knit together. “What d’ya mean?”

“Kali.”

Robin buries her face in his pillow and screams. “I know, okay, I have to buck the fuck up —”

Jonathan thinks involuntarily about the joke Steve would make. _Buckley the fuck up._ It both makes him ache with how much he misses Steve and scorn himself for putting himself in this position. 

“ — But I’m scared.”

“I know. And that’s okay but you can’t let the fear stop you. You can be afraid and do what you’re afraid of both at once. Isn’t that all bravery is?”

Robin lifts her face long enough to wryly say, “You take your own advice?”

He falls back onto his bed. “Clearly not.”

“We’re idiots.”

“Such. Idiots. But if it helps, you’re an idiot that Kali’s in love with.”

“She said that?”

“She didn’t have to.”

Robin lightly kicks Jonathan’s thigh, her face turning beet red. “I’ll do something about it if _you_ promise me you’ll do something about it.”

“Robin —”

“I’m serious. You said it yourself. This is what bravery is. So c’mon, let’s help each other be brave.”

“Okay. Let’s do it,” Jonathan finds himself saying before he’s actively agreed to it. Even then, he doesn’t think he could answer any differently. Maybe Robin’s right. Maybe somehow, some way, they reciprocate his feelings.

Even not, this is most definitely the way he can move forward. With honesty. He can do it. He owes them the truth.

“First, though,” he says, yawning into his forearm. “I need to brush my teeth and we need a bucket of coffee. You wanna stay for breakfast?”

“ _Yes._ Let’s make pancakes.”

.

.

.

Robin’s advice and their deal give him both clarity and confusion and that’s his only explanation for walking into Hawkins’ Tavern, a bar twenty-two minutes away from his house.

The only reason he knows where it is is because of the dozens of times Joyce went to pick up a drunk Lonnie from the bar, forced to bring Jonathan and Will who were too young to be left home alone. He’s never been inside.

Well. Not until tonight.

He’s not sure what he’s searching for. He doesn’t want to get drunk. Doesn’t want to meet someone new. Doesn’t need the loud buzz of conversation, the food, the idle chatter with a bartender. Maybe he just needs that reminder that comes with entering a space that belonged to Lonnie. A real look at what his life could have been, how he made the right calls all his life and that he can do it again.

He doesn’t know what to expect when he steps inside later that Sunday evening. It surely isn’t Carol Perkins.

Before he can step back and run, her eyes find his. First bizarre thing: she’s standing behind the counter, a black uniform apron on, and a menu in her hands. Second bizarre thing: she calls out, “Jonathan?”

“You know my first name?”

“I’m ignoring that,” she says but her mouth twitches. “You gonna continue blocking the doorway or you gonna sit down?”

“Oh. Right.” He rushes to take a seat and plops right in front of her. The stool is cool and squeaks slightly as he shifts around. “Um. Well. Hi. How’ve you been?” He hasn’t seen her since they graduated. Hawkins is a small town and nothing about it feels bigger since he’s graduated but finishing high school still makes a difference. He hasn’t seen Tommy either and wonders if Carol has too.

Carol pushes a short lock of red hair behind her ear. “I’ve been. Life’s a strange ride, you know?”

“Definitely. You’ve been working here long?”

“Couple of years.”

“Cool.”

“You want something to drink?”

“Can I, uh, see a menu?”

She passes him the one in her hands. “Take your time.” 

He does. He looks through each drink and side-order thoroughly, having no idea what the variations of drinks mean. Carol returns maybe ten minutes later and he’s still stuck.

“How ‘bout I get you water? It’s free.”

“I can afford to buy water,” he says shortly.

Her eyes widen, head shaking rapidly. “No, that’s not what I meant. Water’s free for everyone. Shit, Byers, I’m not like that.”

“Not anymore?”

“If you can be best buds with Steve, you can at least tolerate me,” she says, matching the steel in his voice.

He falters. He rests his elbows on the counter, wondering how he found himself in this position. In a bar, talking to Carol fucking Perkins, and agreeing with what she has to say.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just used to you ...”

“Being an asshole? I get it.”

“I don’t hold grudges. I’m sure you’re not, you know, an asshole anymore.”

“You might change your mind.” She taps her long manicured fingers along the counter, sliding the menu back towards him. “You gonna order yet?”

“I will! I just don’t know what I want.”

“Decide.”

“Okay, I _know_ what I want, but ... I’m scared.”

Carol’s eyes narrow. She looks deeply unimpressed, absentmindedly patting down a dried beer stain on her shoulder strap. “Goddammit. Don’t know how many movies you’ve seen but I’m not the bartender that’s gonna change your life with sage advice or what the fuck ever.”

“Please?”

“My life is a shit-show. How can I possibly help you?”

“Your life can’t possibly be worse than mine,” Jonathan says, which, okay, he laments about how awfully wrong he could be as _soon_ as he says it.

“I’m not gonna compare our problems. I’m also not gonna _listen_ to yours.”

“I’ll buy something.” He doesn’t fully understand his desperation to talk to her. Maybe it’s because she’s fully removed from the situation and he’ll know nothing she’ll say will be for the benefit of his comfort. “I’ll take a side of fries.”

“Fine,” Carol says. “Give me five minutes.”

.

.

.

As he munches on fries, he doesn’t tell her _exactly_ what the situation is. He can’t afford to go around and tell people that he’s in love with two people, one of them a guy. 

“Just tell her,” Carol says, annoyed by his indecision. “What could go wrong?”

“She doesn’t feel the same way and I lose her forever.”

“Okay, so you lose her. Move on.”

“I _can’t_.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would be terrible, Carol!”

Carol rolls her eyes. “Listen, dummy. You either tell her and risk, oh, I don’t know, being with the woman of your _dreams_ or, at the most, mild discomfort that will pass. If you’re really as close as you’re telling me, why would it ruin things?”

“Because!” He sputters out, his face hot. He stuffs another french fry into his mouth. “It’ll make things weird.”

“You’re in love with your best friend. How much weirder can it get?”

“Fair point. But if I don’t tell her —”

“If you don’t,” Carol interrupts. “Then you have one possibility. You stay in love with her forever and die alone and sad and full of stupid longing you’ll have never overcome.”

“Pleasant thought,” Jonathan says dryly. 

“I’m keeping it real. The right choice is never the easiest.”

Jonathan sits back, understanding washing over him like a small wave. Comforting, warm, and refreshing. “That ... huh. That really helps. Thank you, Carol.”

She shrugs but he spots the pleased smile that’s gone within a millisecond.

“Is there, um, anything you’d like to speak about?”

“Well, there is one thing. What’re good names for girls?”

“Hmm?”

She takes one large step back, revealing her large belly. Her hand rubs down her stomach, the gesture slow and tender. “Six months.”

The french fry he’d just picked up falls back onto his plate. His jaw practically drops to the floor. “Oh. Oh, wow, congrats? Is it —”

“Yes, it’s Tommy’s. No, he’s not a piece of shit. Yes, we’re still together.”

“That’s _amazing_.” His face splits with a smile, stunned beyond belief. It’s jarring, seeing someone from high school pregnant, let alone Carol of all people, but it brings him immense comfort to know that someone who said and did awful things once a long time ago turned out okay and is doing well. “How do you feel?”

Carol smiles with a nervous sort of excitement. “Terrified. I can’t wait.”

.

.

.

He doesn’t end up ordering a drink.

He gets another water and talks a little longer to Carol. Her baby wasn’t planned but she and Tommy knew they wanted kids at some point. She’s due in September, her due date close to her birthday. She’s looking forward to meeting her daughter and being a mother but she thinks that it still hasn’t quite hit her that it’s all happening and it’s happening soon.

He doesn’t notice the time passing until a patron exits the bar with a loud burp. He turns automatically at the sound and notices, from the sliver of the outdoors that’s shown before the door closes, that the sun is setting.

“I have to go,” he says abruptly. He roots around in his pocket and fishes out a ten. Before the bill even hits the counter, he’s staggering backwards, waving at Carol with both hands. “Thanks for the fries and water and the advice. Congrats on the baby! You’ll do great!”

“Byers, you only owe three dollars,” she says with a half-smile but he’s already out the door.

As he runs into his car, he puts everything — his mess of feelings, the past few months, what he wants and what he needs — in the simplest of terms possible. 

It all comes down to this: making the right choice.

And that’s what he’s finally doing.

.

.

.

Halfway through his car ride to Nancy and Steve’s place, it starts to rain. A gentle pitter-patter that quickly delves into a downpour. He chooses to believe it isn’t a bad omen, deliberately interpreting the lack of lightning and thunder as good signs.

Throughout the entire ride, his hands are steady, heartbeat strangely calm. Whatever happens, he stands by his decision. At least they’ll know.

He parks in their driveway, forgetting about the rain until he’s out of his car, but it’s too late. In a matter of seconds, he’s drenched but he doesn’t care.

He runs up their porch and bangs on the front door. “Steve! Nancy! It’s Jonathan, I need to speak to you!”

The door opens. On the other side, Nancy stands with Steve behind her. They’re both dressed comfortably in sweatpants. Nancy’s wearing one of Steve’s flannel shirts. Steve’s wearing what Jonathan’s ninety-nine percent sure is one of _his_ own shirts but he doesn’t have time to question it now.

Their complete shock doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Jonathan!” Steve rubs his eyes like he needs to be sure that Jonathan’s actually here. “The hell are you doing here? It’s raining, man, are you insane? Get inside!”

“I will, I just —” He’s already out of breath, his hand propped against their doorway, but he’s too excited to catch his breath. Besides, if he doesn’t do it now, he never will. He’s gained his momentum and now all that’s left to do is be honest.

“Are you gonna explain where the hell you’ve —”

“Nance, I know, okay, I’m sorry?” Jonathan runs a hand through his wet hair, all the cold water sinking through his clothes, sticking to his skin. “I was a coward. I thought if I gave you space, that it’d all disappear, that I’d stop feeling what I —”

“Feeling what?” Steve’s voice is low. It’s all Jonathan hears over the violent pouring above him.

“Everything,” Jonathan says. He looks between them both, his heart skipping a beat at the step Nancy takes towards him, the soft ‘oh’ that tumbles past Steve’s lips. “I feel _everything_ for the both of you, I always have, and at this point, I think I always will. I don’t know how I couldn’t because you’re both my best friends. You ... you make me brave. You _are_ brave, so incredibly brave, and I’m in constant awe of you always, and I just. I mean, you had to have known, right? I’ve been told that I look at you two and it’s just all over my face and ... and I don’t know how else to look at you. I don’t know how else to know you and love you without doing it entirely and with everything I am. I mean, you’re just — the brightest lights, ever, and I don’t know how everyone else isn’t in love with you.”

“Jonathan,” Nancy breathes out, a twinkle in her eyes, but he has to keep going.

“I mean, it has to be the biggest privilege of my life, knowing you both. Walking Bowie with you, Steve, and calling all your dog puns stupid even though they _really_ aren’t, and racing each other down my street. Getting to see you at work every day, Nance, working at the same desk and — and our foots touching underneath the table, and watching X-Files with you every week, something that I haven’t done at all this year because it’s not the _same_ without you, and —”

“Jonathan,” Steve tries.

“Just — just give me a minute, okay, and then I’ll shut up, I just _have_ to get it out, so shut up for a — oh, is it rude to say shut up when I’m professing my love? Because I do. I am. In love with you guys. Did I say that already?”

“No,” Nancy says, unbearably soft. She looks dazed, her toes twitching like she wants to move but can’t. “Not technically.”

Steve’s even more fidgety, his fingers drumming above the doorway, looking at Jonathan so intensely that Jonathan doesn’t know what to think. “Are you done?”

The rainfall lightens. His shoes have to be ruined at this point, puddles inside of them numbing his feet. Goosebumps have risen over his arms. His breath comes out shaky. He’s cold almost everywhere, from his head to his toes, but a small part of his chest bursts with warmth.

“Should I be done?” Jonathan says quietly.

“Yes,” Nancy says firmly. “Very nice speech.”

“What?”

“Oh! Oh no, that sounds bad, like I don’t — because I do, I just — I promise, we’ll give you _lovely_ speeches when we get our shit together but for now, can we kiss you?”

“What?” 

“Is that a yes?” Steve's eyes flit to Jonathan’s lips.

Jonathan feels his smile grow, and suddenly, he’s not cold anymore. His heartbeat pounds along to a joyous rhythm. A voice in the back of his mind tells him this is all some dream but the rain coming down on him is very much real and easily drowns out that voice.

Nancy and Steve turn to each other, both laughing and beaming and so, so beautiful. Without a word, they form fists with their right hands and lay their other palm face-up underneath.

“Rock. Paper. Scissors!”

They’re complete dorks. Jonathan is so in love.

Nancy’s scissors beat Steve’s paper. “I’ll try to be quick,” Nancy reassures him, but Steve kisses the top of her head with one hand on her back, nudging her forward, and says, “You two take your time and have the best fucking first kiss _ever_.” 

“Sounds like a plan?” Nancy says, breathless, her smile wobbling. Something about the ounce of shyness she carries makes him fall a little more.

“Yes,” he says, eager to close the space between them. But she steps out inside, venturing into the rain. She lets out a small gasp as the first few raindrops hit her, looking up with a scowl. “Go back inside, you could get sick —”

Her face lights up as she grins, sparkling with a hint of mischief. “Don’t care.”

Jonathan grins back. He looks at Steve, who’s completely dry inside the doorway. Steve’s completely still, looking like he’s caught mid-breath, his face open and stunned and completely gorgeous.

Jonathan catches Nancy’s eyes. Together, they yank Steve out, laughing at the disgruntled noises he makes. 

Steve’s annoyance is brief. He laughs with them as he gets soaked, his hair sticking to his forehead. “Are you two gonna kiss or what? I’ve been waiting ten years for this.”

“You’re not the only one,” Jonathan says. And then Nancy’s lips are on his, her arms slotting around his neck, and he pulls her close by the waist, and Steve’s cheering behind them, and it’s still raining, and Jonathan’s glowing all over.

.

.

.

He doesn’t know how long it is before they’re all dry and settled on the carpet floor with mugs of tea. Steve gave Jonathan a pair of clean sweatpants and a baby blue sweatshirt and now they’re here, sitting in a triangle, hair still wet, faces hot, and it doesn’t feel real.

“We should apologize,” Steve says. “We should’ve said something. We shouldn’t have made you think that —”

“Hey,” Jonathan interrupts, indignant. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Nancy squeezes Jonathan’s knee. “Yes, we do. It wasn’t right of us not to say something. Of course, you wouldn’t tell us and of course, you’d think ... but it’s not true. We love you too. Always have.”

“Always will,” Steve adds, resting his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. He thinks about how badly he wants to kiss them only to realize that he really can just. Lean over. Press his lips to theirs.

So that’s what he does. Steve’s closest, so he dives in, cupping the side of Steve’s face and capturing his lips. Steve freezes, and for an awful second, Jonathan wonders if he’s crossed a line, but then Steve’s holding Jonathan’s face, smiling into the kiss, and Nancy squeezes his knee again, and it’s _good_.

When they draw back, Steve says, “You should do that more often.”

“ _Way_ more often,” Nancy agrees. Jonathan can’t tell if he means kissing Steve or kissing them in general, and, well, he _has_ a decade to catch up on —

so they go back and forth, trading kisses hungrily, testing the waters, something hot unfurling and expanding, especially when Steve and Nancy kiss.

But then, as he’s kissing Steve for the umpteenth time, Steve pulls back. “We should talk first. We need to explain ourselves.”

“We do,” Nancy says firmly before Jonathan can think to protest. “You have to know, okay? We owe you an explanation.”

Jonathan doesn’t need one, honestly, but if they want to explain, then he’ll listen. He leans back, twiddling his fingers in his lap. “Okay. I’m all ears.”

“For a long time,” Steve begins. “We both kind of knew how we felt. I mean, for me, it took longer to accept that I had feelings for you — which, in hindsight, I don’t know I justified looking at your ass _that_ often as, like, super strong friendship —”

Jonathan smiles, flustered. There’s something immensely gratifying about knowing that Steve’s checked his ass out.

“— and I mean, okay, obviously it’s because you’re, you know. A guy. And I didn’t know what that made me. I didn’t want to be a queer, I thought I couldn’t because I loved Nancy too, so it was real easy to just. Push my feelings down for a while. That only lasted so long. When you and Kal moved in together in, what, ‘93? It _really_ bugged me. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t until I asked Kal if you two were a thing and she laughed so hard she cried that I got it.”

“For me,” Nancy says, “I’ve always known. I just didn’t want to accept it. I was just ashamed, I thought it wasn’t right that I could feel as strongly as I did for both of you. I thought there had to have been something wrong with me. I didn’t tell Steve because we’d already gotten through his worry that I’d leave him for you and I didn’t want to scare him and I didn’t want him to be disgusted by me.”

“Which was exactly why I didn’t tell Nance,” Steve says. “But I don’t know, I think eventually, it just became this thing we both knew but never talked about. Yeah, we’re both in love with our best friend but we’re both straight and in love with one person and that’s totally fine!”

Jonathan nods, the pieces slotting into place. “So what changed?”

“Christmas,” Nancy and Steve sigh. She leans her foot out, taps Steve’s thigh. “Want me to start?”

He nods.

She takes a swig of her tea, holds her mug with both hands, and continues. “It was your gift. The album, the camera. It didn’t change anything but it put a spot-light on us, you know? We couldn’t avoid it any longer. On the drive back, I asked Steve — okay, well, I told him that he knew by now that I had feelings for you, right?”

“To which I said ‘the same way you know I have feelings for him too’,” Steve says. 

Jonathan’s chest stirs. “Oh.”

Steve crosses one leg over the other and idly picks at the hole in his left sock. “We talked the entire night. When did we know, what do we want, holy shit we’re stupid, and does he feel the same way? It’s — I feel like we had this inkling but it’s hard to tell how much is from our rose-coloured glasses, how much we’re willing ourselves to see versus how much is actually there. But we agreed we needed to do something because the idea of us getting married without ever telling you outweighed everything else.”

“But then I started to draw back,” Jonathan says. 

“And it was easy to think that ...” Nancy swallows. “Easy to think that you _knew_ and didn’t want to let us down, because you never could, and wanted to make it as easy as possible. We wondered maybe this is just what happens when you get engaged and you were just doing the right thing.”

“I wasn’t. Every second of it, it was _unbearable,_ and I —” Jonathan scoots closer, grabbing both of their hands. He looks between them fervently. “I thought I was doing the right thing but I was just hurting all of us in the process.”

“We should’ve done something,” Nancy insists.

“Knock it off.” Jonathan presses his scar against hers. “You didn’t know.”

“We’re still sorry.” Steve inches towards him, and they’re all so close, elbows knocking, hands still joined, Steve’s knee over Jonathan’s, Nancy’s shoulder pressed against Jonathan’s. He loves it, how unabashed they are now.

“Good thing we have forever to make up for it,” Jonathan says. “You know, with more making out and — other stuff.”

“I like other stuff.” Nancy’s hand slides down to Jonathan’s inner thigh, and oh, okay, that’s — “Shit! The _wedding_!”

Jonathan frowns, glancing between them rapidly. “What’s wrong?”

“You want us to cancel it?” Steve asks, rubbing up and down Jonathan’s back the same way he does to Nancy whenever she’s freaking out.

“What? No! You’ve been planning it for months!”

“The money doesn’t matter if _you’re_ not comfortable,” Nancy says.

Jonathan squeezes both their hands. “I appreciate you asking, I really do, but you don’t have to. I _want_ you both to get married. You in that dress, and you in the tux? What could I want more?”

Steve cracks a smile. “You sure?”

“ _Yes._ Besides, I need to make you cry with the sappiest best man speech ever.”

Laughing, Nancy ducks her head, her grip on his hand tightening. She slings her leg over Steve’s lap and sends him a dazzling smile. “Good. Our wedding is officially perfect. You’re gonna get so fucking married, Harrington.”

“Not if I marry you first. I’ll be first at the aisle.”

“I’ll say _I do_ first.”

“What, no — I’ll say it before you!”

“Fine. I’ll let you and your cute butt win.”

“It is a very nice butt,” Jonathan says solemnly.

Steve laughs, looking utterly delighted. He sort of just flings himself over them and they all go down as he kisses Nancy and drifts his hand down Jonathan’s stomach. 

He flops over to trail kisses down Nancy’s shoulder. Steve pulls away just to kiss along her neck and she sighs contently, snaking a hand into Steve’s hair, the other against Jonathan’s back.

“I love you guys so much,” she says.

Jonathan grins against her skin. “Say it again.”

Nancy and Steve meet each other’s eyes. In an instant, Jonathan’s sandwiched between them. “We’re in love with you,” Steve murmurs as Nancy kisses Jonathan’s eyelid. They keep going and soon, he’s getting peppered with kisses and _I love you_ ’s muffled by his skin. He’s laughing as he says it back with them. All he can think about and all he can feel and all he _wants_ is them and now he’s got it. 

He fights the urge to insist that they don’t have to, they can stop, and lets himself be loved instead.

.

.

.

June 25th, 1994 is a beautifully sunny day. With a nice and light breeze, the sun casting a warm glow outside, the green grass, and the birds singing, it’s a perfect day for a wedding.

“Your mom’s looking for you,” Jonathan tells Holly once he spots her. He follows her down the hallway, breathless from all the running around he’s done in the past hour. Taking pictures for Karen, making sure everyone had their outfits and were ready and dressed, directing relatives to their seats, including Mr. Harrington who thought Jonathan was a valet boy to which Mrs. Harrington scolded him and said, “Love, this is Steve’s friend, Jimmy.” He hopes he isn’t sweating but the focus isn’t really on him today, anyway.

Holly groans, walking backwards with her bouquet clutched to her chest. 

“She just wants to remember this day. You do look beautiful.”

“I look like a clown,” Holly says, but he notices her faint blush. She’s wearing the pink dress that Kali, Robin, El, and Max are all wearing. Her hair’s pinned up and she has make-up on, nothing heavy but it’s not like Jonathan could really tell the difference or name any of what she has on now, except maybe for the lip-gloss. “Here, lemme take you to Nance.”

Jonathan’s heart soars at the mention of Nancy. He straightens his tie. “She asked for me?”

“Yup. I was just going to get you. She’s all dolled up.”

 _Dolled up_ doesn’t do Nancy justice but no string of words can.

About five minutes later, Holly takes Jonathan to Nancy’s dressing room. She knocks once. “Don’t worry, mom’s not with me. No pictures until the ceremony. I brought Jonathan.”

Nancy opens the door and Jonathan forgets how to speak.

She’s radiant. It occurs to him now that he hadn’t seen the dress until just now, a simple but elegant white dress, a small braid at the top of her hair, the rest of it tucked behind her ear and neatly curled. It’s not just the dress or the make-up but _her,_ the glow she carries, the love that must be blooming within her today. 

Jonathan waits the few seconds that it takes Holly to leave before he tells Nancy, “I love you.”

She giggles, running her hands down the sides of her dress. “Good because I love you too. Think we can sneak a kiss without ruining my lipstick?”

“I’ll do my best.” It’s a chaste kiss, more of a brush of lips than anything, but it electrifies him all the same. He leans his forehead against hers, their scarred palms meeting at the same time and pressing together. “Happy wedding day, Nance.”

“Happy wedding day, Jonathan.” Very gently, she hooks her chin over his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re still as much as my husband-to-be as Steve is.”

He hugs her back, nestling the side of her head, careful not to mess up her hair. “Good to hear, wife-to-be. You really do look gorgeous. I’m so happy for you. For all of us.”

“Are you already crying?”

A tear rolls down his cheek. “No.”

“You can’t cry. Because if you cry, then —” Her breath hitches, voice cracking. “I can’t cry right now!”

“Then don’t!”

“You’re _making_ me cry.”

They separate and he gets a good look at Nancy’s misty eyes. He only sees her for a second before his eyes cloud over completely.

“I’m just so happy,” Jonathan explains apologetically, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know what to do with all of it.”

“Me too,” she admits in a hushed whisper. They lean their foreheads together. She shuts her eyes but he can’t, unable to look away from the complete peace that washes over her. “But I think we just have to let ourselves have it.”

.

.

.

A few minutes later, Robin walks in on them. 

They jerk apart instinctively just in case. Robin already knows. When they told her, she said, “Finally” before she crushed each of them in bear-hugs. 

“The bride and the best man,” she says, stunning in her bridesmaid’s dress. “There’s gotta be a joke somewhere in there.”

“What about the maid of honour and the bridesmaid?” Jonathan shoots back.

Nancy hums, smoothing the back of her hair. “Don’t think there is a joke for that but that just means we can make our own.”

Jonathan, Steve, and Nancy aren’t the only ones who’ve gotten their shit together.

Robin flushes in the colour of her dress. She marches forward and grabs Jonathan by the wrist.

“Hey, I’m sorry for teasing —” he starts but she laughs.

“The groom wants you.”

“Yeah, he does,” Nancy says, and that _smirk_ in that dress — let’s just say, the only reason Jonathan doesn’t pass out on the spot from how hot she is is because Robin’s dragging him out the door.

.

.

.

As soon as Jonathan sees Steve, his eyes water.

“Aw, are you crying already?” Steve’s teasing is undercut by the tears that spring to his eyes.

Robin darts inside and attacks Steve with a big hug. “I’ll give you guys a minute and I’ll see you before the ceremony but I just want another hug. I love you, dummy.”

He smiles as he kisses her forehead. “I love you too.”

She retreats, passing Jonathan and giving him a quick peck to the side of his head as she goes. Once the door closes behind her, Jonathan closes the space between them. 

“You’re beautiful,” Jonathan whispers despite Steve’s dressing room being empty. He strokes Steve’s check, his breath catching in his throat.

Steve brushes the first tear that falls down Jonathan’s face. “ _You’re_ beautiful. How’s our bride?”

Something both big and light swells up inside Jonathan at _our bride_. “She’s great. Excited. Gorgeous. You haven’t seen her, right?”

“Nope. But I already know that she beat me at looking the best.” Steve smooths down his pants, shakily smiling. “You sure I look okay?”

“You look perfect. Trust me.”

Steve nuzzles Jonathan’s nose. “Someone has a crush.”

“You do and you’re _really_ not subtle about it.” Jonathan loops his arms around Steve’s neck and kisses the rest of Steve’s laughter away. 

Which is when they get walked in on. Again.

“I know you’re still enjoying the new relationship but my god, are you guys horny,” Kali says. “The bride wants you.”

Jonathan reluctantly pulls back from Steve, turning to Kali with furrowed eyebrows. “Really? I just saw —”

Kali grins. “She wants both of you.”

“Yeah, she does,” Steve says smugly, combing his hair back.

“I cannot believe you _both_ made that same joke,” Jonathan says, shaking his head fondly. He holds Steve’s hand and starts for the door. “But she’s not gonna _see_ him, right?”

Kali nods. She walks with them hurriedly down the hall. In her bridesmaid’s dress, streaks of pink recently redone to match the shade of her dress, and the effortless light she carries with her, she’s beautiful. Jonathan tells her so.

“You really are!” Steve agrees, touching one of the ruffles of Kali’s dress. 

“It’s the happiness,” Kali says. “I’m so stupidly happy for you guys, for getting your shit together, for _today,_ that I get to be Nance’s maid of honour —”

Jonathan glances around, ensuring that no one’s around before he whispers, “And that you’ve finally made things official with Robin?”

“That too,” Kali says impishly, twisting her arms behind her back. “Look at us. Semi-functional adults who can mostly communicate.”

“I’m proud of us,” Steve says, clapping Jonathan’s back as he gives Kali a spin.

“Me too,” Jonathan agrees, fuzzy all over.

They reach Nancy’s door. Kali knocks twice on the door.

“Is Steve facing the other way?” Nancy calls from across the door. 

“Unfortunately,” Steve sighs, bouncing on his feet impatiently. “I miss you! Hurry up!”

“I miss you too! But shut up!”

Jonathan pokes Steve’s stomach, relishing in his snort of laughter. “I get to see her, you don’t,” he teases. “She’s gorgeous, and her hair is done up so nicely, and her _smile_ —”

“You say you love me,” Steve says, pained. “If you love me then why are you hurting me?”

Nancy opens the door, with her back facing them, laughing as she says, “Yeah, why are you hurting him?”

Jonathan can see how Steve has to physically restrain himself from turning around. 

Kali embraces Nancy in a hug. “You’re fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, well, so are you.” Nancy squeezes Kali, looking safe and at ease in her best friend’s arms. “Thank you for bringing them. We’ll be quick. Buy me some time before my mom barges in?”

“Robin’s on it. She’s asking your mom for dating advice.”

“Bless her soul.”

“Try to be quick,” Kali says. She jabs her finger into Jonathan’s shoulder. “And make sure they don’t see each other.”

“Got it.” Jonathan waits until Kali’s left to take in the space of the room and how to maneuver them both so they don’t see each other. Nancy has already positioned herself at the other end of the room, her back still to them.

“Okay, Steve, just walk backwards. _Don’t look back,”_ Jonathan instructs.

“Guide me?”

“I got you.” Jonathan stands in front of Steve and steers him gently by the shoulders. They’re close, Steve’s breath warm on Jonathan’s face, and they share giggles. Jonathan makes sure to kick the door behind them and lock it, having learned to use it finally after getting walked in on twice. “How close do you guys wanna be? Can you touch?”

“Yes,” Nancy and Steve both say. 

And so Jonathan continues to guide Steve until he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Nancy. They both shudder with relief, his left hand and her right hand instantly latching onto each other.

“Hey,” Nancy says softly.

Steve’s eyes slip shut. “Hey.”

“Have any plans today?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a thing in twenty. Why, you wanna do something?”

“Yeah. I wanna marry the hell out of you.”

“I wanna marry the hell out of you too.”

The tears come rushing out in full-force now, quiet streams that cleanse his skin. He cries harder when they reach out for him with their free hands.

“I love you both very much,” he says wetly, linking their fingers. 

“We have a little surprise for you.” Nancy tilts her head at the table full of make-up, used tissues, and mirrors. “The envelope? It’s under the big mirror, can you pass it to me, please?”

He does as she’s asked, forehead creasing. “What is it?”

She pulls a folded up piece of lined paper out, flips it over, and hands it to Steve. She pulls out another and unfolds it.

Steve smooths out the wrinkles in his. “We wrote you vows.”

“We had to make them a little quick because we wanted to do them _before_ the ceremony but knew we wouldn’t have time.”

“You guys,” Jonathan starts.

“I know,” Steve says, smiling warmly at Jonathan. “But just let us say ‘em, okay? Nance, you wanna go first?”

“Yes.” She brings her piece of paper up to her eyes. “Jonathan, I’ve loved you since we were sixteen. We were just kids that no one listened to who decided to take things into our own hands instead. You _saw_ me. You understood me. You were there for me when the world fell apart and every time after with your callused hands and your big heart. But I don’t just love you for what you’ve done for me or for the warrior you are. I love you because you’re you. You like Bowie more than you like most people. You take your tea with one sugar. You’re the best photographer I know and the only possible person that could make working with those ass-hats bearable. You like your obscure music and can talk on and on about it and god help me but I could hear you talk about it for _days_. And your insight on _X-Files,_ not just the cinematography but the characters and their dynamics. You ... you’re part of me, you’re etched and woven into my life, and when I think of home, I think of you and Steve and our nights in together when we forget about time and you end up having to sleep over because it’s too late and you’re tired. I think of the two drops of cologne you use every morning. I think of the smell of your toothpaste, the one with _just_ a little mint. I think of our twin scars, and your dry jokes, and your kind eyes, and your strong shoulders, and your love, mine, Steve’s, what we have with each other that’ll last lifetimes. I love you. Know that when Steve and I are up there and we say I do, we’re promising to be with you until death does us part. Until then and after then. Always. Okay?”

Jonathan can’t see anything with the flood of tears in his eyes. All he can do is nod jerkily and say, “Yes, of course!” 

“My god, Nance, that was beautiful,” Steve sniffs. “How do I follow that?”

“Stop it.” Nancy reaches for Steve’s hand again. “Yours is beautiful.”

“Please?” is all Jonathan says before Steve clears his throat and begins.

“I told you a few months ago that you’ve given me everything, which I still stand by, but what I wanted to also tell you, what I didn’t have enough bravery to admit, is that — that getting to love you, you and Nance, have been the biggest honours of my life. That first year or so, after the fight and the shit that went down at your house, I needed so badly to convince you that I was good. I thought I was jealous of you, and I think I was, a little, but looking back, I just — even from the start, I liked you before I liked you. My heart just. It just fucking knew that you would have part of my heart one day. I didn’t ever expect to be gifted with part of yours either. So when we became friends and when it sunk in that you weren’t just pretending to like me for Nancy’s sake? I don’t think you know how much that meant to be. But I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trynna show you. Every time you make fun of me and pick a piece of lint out of my hair and toss a Frisbee for me and Bowie to run after and laugh at my jokes and give me that tiny smile that says so much — I fall deeper, and deeper, and deeper. I’m gonna be falling for you and Nance for the rest of my life and that’s a promise. Sound good?”

Jonathan’s struck with the thought that _this_ is what total and unconditional happiness feels like. “Sounds like a —”

“Sorry to interrupt but there’s _one_ more thing!” Nancy says.

“You’re gonna kill me here,” Jonathan says fondly. “Are you serious?”

“Hell yeah.” Steve rifles through the pocket of his tuxedo before he pulls out a small red box. “Remember how we told you Christmas made us realize we had to do something?”

Jonathan’s jaw drops. “You guys got me a _ring_?”

“In hindsight, it’s very ridiculous that only after we bought you a ring did we think about the implications of that. They do say love makes you stupid,” Nancy says. “C’mon, open it.”

Steve opens the box. Inside is a gold band. “There’s an inscription,” Steve informs.

Jonathan touches the ring cautiously like it’s fragile. He peers closer at it and finds the inscription inside. _J.S.N._

“We put it on the inside just to be safe,” Nancy says. “Ordered our names alphabetically by last name. Do you like it?”

“I love it. I love you _both_ so —”

A loud rap at the door startles them all. “Nancy!? We have fifteen minutes until the ceremony. Why is the door locked? Nancy!”

Nancy hisses. “Put the ring on him, Steve.”

“Fuck, she can’t know I’m here,” Steve whisper-shouts.

Karen’s knocking persists. “NANCY!”

“I’M COMING, GIVE ME A SECOND!”

Steve slides the ring over Jonathan’s ring finger and kisses his finger quickly, warmth blooming across his hand. “Looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan says, starry-eyed. “You need to get in the closet.”

Steve’s nose crinkles. “Not _again_.”

“Just for a few minutes until my mom leaves.” Nancy blindly waves her arm around her, patting Steve’s elbow. 

Forty-something seconds later, Nancy unlocks the door and lets Karen in. “Yes, mom?”

“How could you leave me —” Karen’s breath stutters at the sight of Jonathan behind Nancy. “Jonathan. What’re you —”

“Oh, Karen, you look divine,” Jonathan gushes. It’s true. She’s wearing a dark purple dress, her hair tied into a neat bun, her yellow eyeshadow making her eyes pop. “I was hoping to talk to you, actually?”

“Thank you, Jonathan! What did you want to speak about?”

Jonathan sighs, braving himself for the next ten minutes of his life. “I need to find a girlfriend.”

“Oh, I know so many nice girls for you, let me —”

Robin nearly falls over, coming into view with a stop so sudden she needs a few seconds to regain her balance. “Mrs. Wheeler! I went to the bathroom for _two seconds._ We weren’t finished talking about the best spaghetti recipes to ...” She grimaces before plastering on a bright smile. “To _woo a man_.”

“Too bad,” Jonathan cuts in, hanging his arm around Karen’s shoulder to steer her out the room. “I need her for dating advice. Real quick. Five minutes since, you know, the ceremony starts and I’ll need to check on _Steve_. Sounds good?”

“Fine.” Robin nods discreetly before she bumps her shoulder against his and walks into Nancy’s dressing room. “See you at the aisle, mom-stealer.”

“See you!” As Jonathan and Karen descend the hallway, her speaking a mile a minute about Lacey from down the street, he steals a peek at the door before it fully shuts.

Nancy pokes her head out and blows him a kiss. 

He blows one back right as Karen says, “Do you like brunettes?”

Jonathan shrugs, thinking about how Steve’s hair feels in his fingers, of Nancy’s bedhead on a Saturday morning. “You could say that.”

.

.

.

To no one’s surprise, Jonathan cries throughout the entire ceremony. But he’s not the only one.

There isn’t a dry eye in the house. All of his fellow groomsmen wipe away the odd tear or two, Mike the hardest crier. Every glance at the bridesmaids gives them more tears. And no one has a candle on Karen who had hugged Steve fiercely before the ceremony started, telling him she was proud to have him as her son.

Every part of it is beautiful. Nancy walking down the aisle, the handshake she and Steve do when they meet, the vows, the _I do_ ’s and, of course, the deal-sealing kiss. It’s a picture-perfect wedding. A well-deserved happy ending for their story that’s only just begun.

.

.

.

“You sure you’re okay to go first?” Kali holds the microphone to him, wiping a bead of sweat away from her forehead.

Absolutely not but he wants to. He nods, accepting the microphone with a clammy hand. They stand by the front of the reception hall, scanning the wedding guests all seated at their designated tables. Behind them is the long table for the bride, groom, and all the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Speeches start in five minutes. Miraculously, Jonathan wrote a draft of his speech that he didn’t completely hate and that wasn’t _too_ overt. He wrote it down on cue cards, tucked in his left breast pocket, right above his beating heart.

“You’ve got this, you know,” Kali says. “You always say the right thing.”

It puts a smile on his face, cutting through the fog of nervousness clouding him over. “So I’ve been told.”

When it’s his cue, he takes in a deep breath. The floor is entirely empty save for him. His excitement is overwhelmed by intense nervousness, the fear that he’ll stutter or say the wrong thing or say too many right things and ruin —

But then he looks over his shoulder and makes eye contact with Steve. He points to Jonathan with his hand holding Nancy and she spots him. They brighten. He catches clearly what they mouth.

_Good luck. We love you._

Just like that, he’s good to go.

He taps the mic gently. “Hello! Can, uh, everyone hear me?”

A round of murmured yes’s follows.

“Good.” He takes a second to breathe in and out. In one of the tables closest to him, he finds his parents. Joyce waves excitedly, sitting up and removing her head from Hop’s shoulder. Hop gives him a thumbs-up.

He smiles before looking at his cue-cards. “Hi everyone. For those of you don’t know me, I’m Jonathan Byers. I’m Steve’s best man. I’m both his and Nance’s best friend. We all went to high school together about a million years ago. I’ve known Nance all my life but we only got _really_ close when we were sixteen. Around the time she started dating Steve and my god was he annoying.”

He waits, lets the obligatory laughter pass. “I didn’t like him one bit. Here’s this rich entitled guy who’s suddenly dating smart, brave, and interesting Nancy Wheeler? What does she see in _him_? How does he deserve her? What could this relationship possibly look like? I got the answer to all those questions eventually but the last one was answered the quickest. We’ve all spent time around these two together and it doesn’t take long to see the unconditional love they have for each other.

“They have fun together. I mean, we all saw that handshake at the altar, right? Do you guys know how much they _practiced_ that? Because I do. Three and a half weeks.” Another pause for laughter. “They have water-fights in their backyard in the summer and race each other to Walmart and give each other terrible haircuts once every six months. They’re gonna grow old together but they’re never gonna stop being young together too. They’re each other’s best friends. And isn’t that all marriage is? Marrying your best friend, the person who makes you laugh the hardest but also the person that makes you wanna be better.

“I know I said Steve was a tool, because, you know, he really was. But he grew up. I’m not gonna say Nance changed him but I will say she inspired him. Being with Nancy made Steve want to be better and I get it too. Her courage, passion, and cleverness constantly move me. So of course, Steve would love her and of course, he’d become tolerable for it. Not just tolerable. But a good, kind-hearted, and brilliant man. One of the best I know. 

“He and Nance, they taught me that it’s not about deserve, it’s about ... showing up. Being honest. Being sincere. It’s about trying, over and over, because love is all we have, and it’s all we are, and it’s all we’re here for. They work together and make their love anew every day for the past decade and they’ll continue to do so, forever. 

“Nancy,” he says, choked up as he turns to look at her. She’s flushed, hair out of place, alight with sweat, love all over her face. “You have a good and honest man who’ll love you and take care of you and _see_ you for the extraordinary woman you are. 

“Steve,” he continues, gaze shifting to Steve. “You already know. I get it now. How good you are for each other, what she saw in you then and what she sees in you now. You’re perfect together. You’re wonderful. I’m so lucky to be your best man and your best friend.

“As both of your best friends, really, It’s an honour seeing you fall deeper and deeper in love. I wish you both a lifetime of peace.” His eyes water for the millionth time today but he doesn’t wipe his face as a tear slips down. Sometime during his speech, he’d tucked his cue cards away. He doesn’t need them. He grips the mic with both hands and turns his back to the guests, completely drawn to the blinding light from the two loves of his life. “I love you both so much. Let’s raise a glass for Nancy and Steve!”

Thunderous applause follows, cheers from all sides of the room. Will is the loudest of the groomsmen and from the bridesmaids, Kali and Robin’s cheers overlap. 

When he doesn’t spot Nancy and Steve, he frowns. But a large hand is placed on his shoulder and a figure runs into his arms and _oh,_ they’re right here. They’ll always be here.

“Told you if you’d ramble about how much you loved us it’d be perfect,” Steve says as he hugs Jonathan from behind, long arms twined around Jonathan’s waist.

Nancy laughs wetly as she combs Jonathan’s hair back. “And told you you’d make us cry.”

“I meant every word.” He basks in their embrace, clinging to their touch. He soaks in every detail. The fairy lights strung around them. The semi-quiet idle chatter as respect for Kali who crosses the floor to retrieve the mic from Jonathan. Nancy’s nose pressed into his shoulder. Steve’s head tucked against his neck. The strength in which he hugs them both with. And of course, the weight of his ring on his finger.

.

.

.

Jonathan’s leaned against the wall across the dance floor. Louis Armstrong croons over the speaker, his low and breathtaking voice the soundtrack to Nancy and Steve’s second dance. Nancy’s cheek is leaned against Steve’s chest while his is pressed to her head. The two sway back and forth, their hands entwined, bodies in sync. 

Jonathan’s utterly enchanted.

He doesn’t notice his mother approaching him until she says, “Great speech. Hop and I sobbed.”

He doesn’t look away from Nancy and Steve but he does inch closer to Joyce, laughing at what she tells him. “Really?”

“Yup. Full-on waterworks. It was beautiful, Jonathan. And so ... honest.”

She knows something’s up. He’ll tell her — she took the news of Will and Mike’s dating very well and she’s always adored Nancy and Steve. It’ll just have to be after the wedding. 

For now, he thanks her. “I just spoke from the heart.”

“Speaking of, I wanted to check in. I know you’ve been having a rough time recently and you’ve been so busy with work and the wedding I didn’t know when to ask but are you okay now? And don’t you dare think about lying to me.”

He tears his gaze away from the newlyweds to look at Joyce. His heart flutters the way it always does at Joyce’s warmth, something he’s always had but has never gotten less incredulous over how lucky he is to have it. “I’m okay, mom. I promise.”

 _La Vie En Rose ends._ An upbeat pop song starts in its place. One by one, people flood the dance-floor. In his periphery, he sees Steve stretch his arms towards Jonathan, his eyebrows raised. As Nancy removes her heels and chucks them out of the way, she calls out, “Get your ass over here and dance with us on our wedding day!” 

“I’m more than okay,” he says to Joyce as he takes her hand, pulling them both towards the dance-floor. Each step forward with his mother brings him closer to his best friends, his partners, the rest of his life. He’s struck with the truth of what he’s about to say and marvels in the fact that he’s finally, finally here. “I’m completely, unquestionably happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> hello again!!
> 
> thank you kindly for reading. i'd LOVE to know what you think!! if you enjoyed and feel inclined, please considering commenting and/or reblogging the [photoset on tumblr!!](https://trulyalpha.tumblr.com/post/630186722884452352/a-life-in-your-shape-i-think-steves-going-to)
> 
> side-note - i incorporated steve working at a community centre from a hc on tumblr that i could not find for the life of me. if you know what i'm talking about, please direct me to the post!! 
> 
> i had a blast writing this and really just let my heart run wild w/ all the corny shit i wanted to write. i hope you liked this one as much as i did. take care!! much love. 💛


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